In the Dark
by Xarhaa
Summary: Darth Vader's new weapon takes the first step into the dark. Starkiller and Juno.
1. Chapter 1

Black-gloved hands worked over the familiar controls of the TIE fighter automatically. He paid no attention to the chatter over the radio, the ceaseless voices of the troops that razed the once-verdant planet that fell away from his viewport.

Outside the edges of his own mind, he could feel the boy's childish terror and anger. He knew without looking the boy lay where he had been chained, his dark eyes trained fearfully on the still figure who guided the ship. Beneath the mask, his expression twisted into a sneer of contempt. Powerful though the boy was, he was afraid and alone, untrained and raw. He would be easily manipulated.

He knew it would only be a matter of time before he would use his latest weapon to finally overthrow his hated Master, the Emperor. The boy would need to grow into his strength, but he had learned nothing if not patience through years of servitude.

The fact remained that he would have his revenge. The boy was the instrument of the Emperor's destruction. The thought cheered him, and under his mask, Darth Vader smiled.

* * *

><p>"<em>Wake up." <em>

The voice that spoke to him sent chills down his spine. It was the same one that haunted his nightmares, where over and over he saw his father's last desperate struggle, heard him cry for the boy to run. Then there was the horrible wrenching sense of loss as his father's Force signature faded.

His eyes opened, and he shrank back immediately from the dark figure who regarded him. He had been hauled aboard the dark one's TIE fighter, chained tightly behind the pilot's chair. He had waited hours in the darkness as the TIE had landed in what he thought might be a ship. He had tried to break the chains, but his fear crippled his ability to access the Force…he could not still his mind as his father had taught him to access the power he knew was there.

His frustration bubbled over, and he had cried, tugging uselessly on the chains. When he had fallen asleep, he was not sure, but now he shrank back as the dark figure responsible for killing his father and taking him from the only home he'd ever known loomed over him. The dark figure bade for him to stand, and he did so, not knowing what else to do. The chains unlatched from the chair, floating into the dark one's hands. He tugged on them impatiently, pulling the boy after him like a dog on a leash.

He was forced to run to keep up with the dark one's strides, and they turned many corridors, too many for the boy to count, before he was hauled into a darkened area of the ship. The dark one waved a hand, and a heavy door opened, darkness yawning within it. The stench of ozone and metal assaulted the boy, and he could taste the tang of the metal on his tongue. It was cold, as cold as space, and the boy's breath steamed in the thin air. The cold burned his lungs, and he took sharp, shallow breaths. It was nothing like the smells of the forest he remembered, the comfortable smell of the wood that used to burn in the fireplace at home. He remembered the warmth of the fire longingly, shivering.

The dark one jerked on the chain roughly, almost pulling the boy from his feet. "If I must remind you to move again, you will regret it," the dark one snapped. The boy swallowed, hurrying along behind the dark one's long strides once more as he was pulled further into the dark area of the ship that he realized was under construction. The boy's legs trembled with fatigue as they reached a remote area of the ship. The sounds of construction went on around them, though this area of the ship appeared to have been completed at some point in the past. They hurried through a small hangar and through a final door.

The door slid shut behind them with a solid boom, and the boy felt trapped. They stood in a large circular room. Two doors led from it, the one they had entered from and another in the rear. The dark one pulled the boy to the center of the room. The boy stared up at the black mask the dark one wore, seeing his own terrified face reflected in it. "You will remain here. Should you try to escape, you will be severely punished. Do you understand?"

The boy swallowed, his throat closing with a terrified sob. He felt anger from the dark one when he did not answer. He screamed as an invisible hand knocked him to the floor, cracking his head painfully against the metal decking. He felt warm blood trickle down his face. "You will answer the instant I order anything of you!" The dark one snapped. "You will answer me as 'Master.'" The boy curled into a terrified ball, and he cried out as he was raised from the floor and slammed back down with a jarring crunch that knocked the wind from him. "Answer me!" the dark one roared.

The boy mouthed the words, and the dark one leaned closer. "Louder!" he snarled, and the boy managed to whisper. "Y-Yes…Master." The dark one loomed over him for a moment then withdrew. He stepped back from the boy, and gestured once. The boy's chains fell to the floor. "These rooms are yours. You will train here. Should you complete the training, power will be yours beyond your imagining. Should you fail, you will die." The boy remained silent, standing in the center of the room, his head bowed, tears streaming down his face.

"I want to go home…" he sobbed, and the dark one raised a clenched fist. The boy slammed against a wall and lay there, stunned. "You will not speak unless ordered," the dark one snarled. "You will **never** voice your opinion, desires or wants to me again. You are a slave, and nothing more. Should you forget that, I will not hesitate to kill you." Still stunned from the blow, the boy whispered, "Yes, Master." The dark one turned, striding out of the room. The boy curled into a miserable ball near the wall, too terrified to move. He must have slept then, but he couldn't be sure.

The boy was not aware of how much time had passed before the door slid open once more. A strange, skinny droid entered the room, carrying a tray of food. His glowing photoreceptors took in the huddled form of the boy who lay where Lord Vader had left him. "Good morning, young Master!" he said, cheerfully. The boy stared at him, his dark eyes reddened and puffy from crying. Dried blood crusted a cut on his scalp.

"Who?" the boy ventured after a moment, glancing around for the dark one.

The skinny droid ambled over to the boy, who cowered against the wall. "I am Hologram Training Droid PRX-10 – Lord Vader sent me to aid in your training, young Master." The boy stared at him, then whispered, "Lord Vader?" The droid nodded. "Lord Vader is your Master. He is the one who brought you here." The boy stood up slowly still dizzy from the beating he'd received as the droid offered him a metal hand. "It is time for your morning meal, young Master."

He set down the tray in front of the boy, who eyed it. It was nothing like the food he remembered having at home…he remembered the sweet orange fruit his father used to bring him from the groves and the smell of stew bubbling from the pot over the fire. His stomach growled, and the plain bowl of grey mush and bottle of water did not look at all appetizing. Still, he was hungry, so he picked up the utensil, taking an experimental bite of the food. He grimaced. It tasted terrible, but he forced himself to eat it anyway.

The droid watched him eat and drain the bottle of water, and the boy found the glow of droid's photoreceptors unnerving…in the gloom they reminded him of the eyes of the demons in the Shadowlands his father used to tell him stories about. "Very good Master!" the droid praised, as he finished the last of the gruel. "Now it is time to begin your training."

Without warning, the droid lunged for him, his hands claw-like. The boy screamed, instinctively pushing the droid away from him. The Force responded to his need, and the droid flew across the room, hitting the wall hard. The boy stared in horror at the droid, and then at his own hands. The droid got to its feet, and the boy cowered against the wall. "Stay…stay away from me!" he cried, but the skinny droid ignored him.

There was a flash, and suddenly he was staring at a man wielding a red blade of glowing light. He recognized a lightsaber, his father had never let him play with the hilt, but he had explained patiently how it worked. The boy hadn't understood most of his explanation, fascinated more with the blue crystal that lay at the heart of the hilt. He screamed as the man leapt at him, the lightsaber raised. He had no weapon to defend himself. He dodged the swing narrowly, feeling the blade burn his clothes.

"Stop!" he cried. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded, but the man did not answer, instead swinging the lightsaber at his head. Instinctively, he called on the Force, raising his hand, and the lightsaber was wrenched from the man's grip, much as he had done to the dark one in his father's hut. He cowered, holding the lightsaber out in front of him as the man lunged, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard a strange noise, and weight settled onto the lightsaber he held.

He opened his eyes, and the man was impaled on the weapon, his blue eyes wide in pain. The boy stared in horror as the man shimmered, disappearing. The droid stumbled back off of the lightsaber, his chestplate smoking. "Very good, young Master!" the droid praised. "I thought for sure I would kill you, taking you by surprise. It seems I was wrong."

The boy stared at the droid, his gaze distrusting, the lightsaber now firmly in his grip. "You…you stay away from me!" he cried, brandishing the lightsaber inexpertly. The droid hung his head. "I am sorry if I offended you, Master…I was merely trying to fulfill my primary programming." The boy edged along the wall away from the droid. "What programming?" he demanded.

"Why, to kill you of course, young Master."

* * *

><p>The days went by – a seemingly endless monotony, and at first he fought the dominion of the dark one.<p>

Each refusal to obey - no matter how minor - resulted in hours of punishment, but worse for the boy were the scoldings the droid he had nicknamed PROXY would give him as he bandaged the boy's wounds afterwards.

On one such occasion, his guard had been down, allowing his Master to score his shoulder with the tip of his lightsaber. He had cried out in pain, almost dropping his own weapon, and his Master had Force-pushed him across the room. His body had slammed into the wall with bone-cracking force, and his Master's contempt had twisted inside him before he had blacked out.

When he had woken hours later, PROXY leaned over him in his bunk. "Master…" the droid chided. "I warned you the last time we fought about keeping your guard up. You nearly lost your arm, and you are not as easily repaired as I am."

The boy had winced as PROXY laid a cold cloth soaked in bacta over the lightsaber burn on his shoulder. It would scar, he knew. PROXY clucked at him as he winced again. "You must hold still Master, or the bacta will not be as effective…should that wound form too much scar tissue, it will hamper movement when it heals."

The boy had forced himself to sit still despite the searing pain and the sickly sweet smell of the bacta and his own burnt flesh. He sighed as PROXY finished binding the bandage to his shoulder, flexing against it experimentally. It was good and tight, the bacta providing welcome relief from the pain of the burn as it settled into the wound. PROXY eyed him critically, tilting his head. "I suppose that will do, Master…" he said. The droid stood up, gathering up the medkit supplies, placing them back on the shelf in his sparse quarters.

"You should rest now, Master."

He had turned and left the room, and the door closed, locking behind him.

The boy sighed, pushing away the humiliation that rose with the memory, feeling the hated tears trickle down his cheeks. The weeks since the dark one had taken him blurred together, and he now no longer knew what day it was, what month. He had no way of telling night from day, sleeping when he was locked in his quarters, waking when PROXY turned on the lights or when he heard the familiar snap-hiss of a lightsaber that meant PROXY was trying to kill him again. He shuddered when he remembered the only time Vader had woken him from oversleeping.

He had been lifted in a Force-choke and slammed against a wall. On pure instinct he had writhed out of the grip, letting his sudden terror and anger fuel his flight. He had struck out at his Master out of anger – silently elated he had escaped his Master's grip. His Master had responded to his insolence by beating him senseless. When he woke up some hours later in a dried puddle of his own blood on the training room floor, his Master had loomed over him and said, "If you are ever in any position but kneeling when I enter this room again, I will kill you."

He lay on his hard bunk, feeling emotions roil through him. He hated the dark one, his Master. He had taken the only life he had ever known from him - and there was no one else who even knew of his existence. The boy could barely remember his mother, a faint memory of a soft touch, the smell of baked bread from her robes, mixed with the scent of earth. He did remember, in sharp relief, the feelings of unassailable grief and despair that he had felt from his father for a long time afterward.

Eventually, his memories faded to dreams and he slept.

* * *

><p>Every day that passed for the boy in the darkness was another memory that faded. He had ceased dreaming of his parents…instead, he dreamed of the power his Master promised – and the freedom that would be his when the Emperor was finally dead. Silently, he clenched a fist. If he had nothing but his Master and his training, then he would do as his Master wished and become the best, most powerful Force-wielder ever…surely any life, even one as unpredictable and pain-filled as his – was preferable to death and its mysteries.<p>

Feeling more focused than he had since he had been taken, he slid off the bunk, ignoring the pain that burned in his shoulder. His fingers flicked the blood-red blade he had won in his first battle to life, and he stared into light, letting all his anger, hate and sorrow pour through him. The Dark Side rose within him, flowing like a bloody tide. Somewhere, he thought he heard laughter.

"_Very good, my apprentice."_

**A/N: Title stays, lyrics go due to the fact I've decided to continue this and see where it leads.**


	2. Chapter 2

Unhurried footsteps echoed hollowly through the stark hallways of the _Executor_, and the Stormtroopers and various officers that rushed past ignored the man in the maintenance uniform. He said nothing to anyone as he passed, his engineer jumpsuit oddly spotless for someone who spends most of his time in the bowels of the ship. He turned several corridors, and he approached a nondescript door, much like the others in this section of the ship, it contained mainly minor officer's quarters and offices. It was an unofficial sort of place, and the man waited patiently until a deep voice intoned, "Enter."

The door slid open, and the man stepped inside the nondescript office space. Behind a plain desk - seemingly too large for the room - sat Darth Vader himself. The door slid closed behind the man, locking with a solid click. As soon as the door lock engaged, PROXY dropped the hologram of the engineer whose appearance he had appropriated to meet with the Sith Lord in secrecy. Darth Vader was fond of luxury, especially when it suited his cause - but the vast majority of his planning was done in private, random offices on the _Executor_, so as better to evade the spies the Emperor sent after him.

Thus it was that PROXY stood before the seated form of the Sith Lord, whose artificial right fingers drummed impatiently on the metal desk, the sound of metal on metal only slightly dulled by the heavy gloves he wore. "You are late." His voice sounded loud in the small space, and had PROXY the ability, he would have been shaking in terror at the anger in his Master's tone. He settled for blinking his photoreceptors in the dimmed light and said, "My apologies, Lord Vader. Young Master required immediate tending after his last injury."

Vader snorted, the sound echoing oddly from his vocoder. "I did not program you to coddle the boy." PROXY hesitated a moment before elaborating. "Had I not stopped the bleeding he would likely have died." Vader was silent for a long moment, and then replied, "If he is weak, he is unworthy to serve me. You will not be tardy to any meeting with me again - for any reason." PROXY bowed his head. "Yes, Lord Vader."

The Dark Lord of the Sith sat back in his chair. "Your report."

PROXY straightened. "Starkiller is growing at a nominal rate for a human male his age, which I estimate to be somewhat less than 8 standard years. He is not showing any signs of physical maturity. His midichlorian count remains stable. He is of a slightly substandard weight for his height, which is in the 80th percentile for males in a similar age group…" Vader waved his hand impatiently. "I care very little for the boy's physical state. Tell me about his mind."

PROXY paused for a moment, then said, "His education is proceeding faster than I had anticipated. It is clear he has had prior instruction in at least Aurebesh and basic mathematics before he came here. His favorite subjects are…"

The droid was startled out of his recitation by Vader's fist slamming onto the desk, which groaned from the impact. He blinked at the Sith Lord as Vader stood up. "Stop wasting my time!" he growled.

PROXY managed to cower a little as Vader closed the space between them in two strides. "I want to know about his fighting potential. Has he improved at all since the last time we dueled?"

PROXY blinked up at the forbidding mask of the Sith Lord. "In my estimation, young Master has improved a great deal. He learned Soresu quickly from my training modules, and his attacks are fast and strong - when he does attack. His endurance is increasing daily." Vader's breathing sounded for a moment before he said, slowly, "'When he does attack?' Explain."

The skinny droid was silent a long moment, then said, "Young Master only attacks if he is attacked first. He does not press his advantage in duels, instead retreating to a distance. His reluctance to take advantage of weakness has resulted in quite a few injuries. When I ask him why he does not take openings in duels, he replies that he does not wish to hurt me."

Vader was silent for several long moments, his anger almost visible. "Very well. You may go."

PROXY bowed, pulling the illusion of the nondescript engineer about himself again. "As you wish, Lord Vader." Vader stared at the closed door of the office for a long time afterward, his mask betraying nothing of the narrowed gaze within.

* * *

><p>The boy was older now – almost a full head taller than he had been when he had first been brought to this place. His dark eyes were tired, deep circles under them emphasizing the paleness of his skin. His hands and arms bore countless small wounds, several still fresh and oozing blood. He tried to ignore the pain of the wounds, pulsing like fire with every beat of his heart and tried once more to sink himself into the Force.<p>

He made a soft, frustrated noise. The pain was distracting him. Anger rose within him, familiar and cleansing, and he loosed it with a gesture, sending the tray that had contained his breakfast flying against a wall. The tray made a satisfying clang as it hit the wall, clattering loudly as it fell to the floor.

As the noise from the tray faded, the door to his quarters opened to reveal PROXY. The droid stopped in the doorway, eyeing the boy curiously. "Has something upset you, Master?" he asked. Starkiller sighed heavily. "I just can't seem to meditate PROXY. I try every night for hours, just like Master said I should…but…" The boy hung his head, blinking back tears.

PROXY entered the room, silently picking up the tray, his servomotors whirring. He set the tray aside on the study console and seated himself gingerly beside the forlorn form of the boy dressed in a worn black uniform that was much too big for him.

Awkwardly, PROXY patted the boy on the shoulder. "There, there young Master…I am sure you will be able to meditate eventually. Lord Vader says that meditation requires a degree of calm…and I don't need scans to tell that you are most definitely not calm."

Starkiller growled, but did not move from under PROXY's metal hand. PROXY stood up. "Perhaps some sparring would help your mood, Master." PROXY hopped nimbly off the bunk, and Starkiller slid off as well. "Maybe you're right PROXY…" he said, slowly. PROXY led him out to the training room, activating a program he knew his Master enjoyed.

Starkiller's expression was delighted as the skinny droid shimmered and became a tall, red-haired man in earth-colored robes. His blue eyes were shrewd, and his blue lightsaber cast cool shadows into the dim corners of the training room.

It seemed a terribly uneven match, for the man was solidly built, his shoulders broad and his movements sure. His robes and boots were immaculate. The boy he faced was thin, standing barely to the man's stomach, his face gaunt and showing signs of little rest. The oversized black uniform the boy wore was dirty and worn.

But the boy held his red blade before him with as much surety as the man, his dark eyes narrowed.

The moment lasted for a seeming eternity, and then it was over as the two blades clashed. Sparks flew and the blades hissed as they clashed a second time, and Starkiller ducked swiftly out of the lock, using his smaller stature to his advantage. The man swung again, and the boy rolled, using the Force to propel himself against a wall. His feet touched the wall for a bare instant before he somersaulted over the man's head, intending to decapitate him.

He had misjudged the distance, his lightsaber singeing the man's hair, and a startled cry was wrenched from his lips as the man turned swiftly, his lightsaber grazing the boy's leg. Starkiller saw white as his leg flared with pain. He landed awkwardly, his leg refusing to hold his weight and sending him tumbling.

The man's face was twisted in a snarl as he raised the blue lightsaber for a killing stroke. Desperately, Starkiller called on the Force, pushing the man away from him. The man stumbled back into the wall, momentarily stunned.

"Alright PROXY…" he called, panting. "Enough."

The man shook himself and leapt for the prone form of the boy, and Starkiller swallowed hard. It was clear PROXY wasn't going to listen to him. Again. He set his jaw and as the illusory Jedi swung his lightsaber, Starkiller rolled again, using the Force to augment his strength as he drove his own weapon into the man's chest.

PROXY stumbled back off of his lightsaber. "Very good Master, though I almost had you there."

Starkiller grunted, his mood darker than it had been before the duel. PROXY watched his expression as he helped his young charge to his feet. "I am sorry Master, usually a duel cheers you up…" Starkiller shook his head. "It's not your fault PROXY…"

The door to the training room slid open.

The monotone of Vader's breathing was heard, and without even thinking, Starkiller sank to his knees, bowing his head submissively, the searing pain of his most recent wound drowned in the utter terror of seeing his Master personally for the first time in two years.

Most of the time, Vader did not bother personally training with the boy, choosing instead to observe his many duels with PROXY over security feeds, and rarely, sending a hologram of himself to test the boy's strength.

Vader strode into the training space, his dark cloak swishing. He observed the boy for a moment, then spoke.

"Come with me."

The Sith Lord turned on his heel, striding from the room, and Starkiller wasted no time in hurrying after him. Vader led him out into the storage area, then into the hangar proper. It was empty at current, save for a large durasteel cage that had been erected in the center. Starkiller's eyes went immediately to the bursts of color that occupied the cage.

Three vaguely avian-looking creatures with bright blue and orange plumage occupied the cage, perched on artificial branches that had been placed inside. Their eyes were bright yellow, ringed in blue, and their beaks were sharply pointed, like needles. They were perhaps each as large as the boy's own head, and Starkiller shivered as all three turned to stare at him. He could feel their hunger.

Vader's voice chilled in his blood as he spoke. "These birds are quite rare and prized as pets of various nobility. Do you know why?" Starkiller swallowed. "No, Master."

He gasped as something obscured his vision, feeling a strap tighten under his chin. "What…?"

Instinctively he reached up to remove the blast helmet that had been placed on his head. "You will remove that at cost of your hand, boy." He felt a heavy hand on his shoulders, pushing him forward.

His Master's voice echoed in his head as he said, "They are used for executions."

Starkiller heard a heavy door open and close, and he realized his Master had pushed him into the cage.

In an instant, the birds were on him, their beaks clattering uselessly against the blast helmet that covered his head and face completely. The sound of their pecking echoed in the helmet's space, and for a brief instant Starkiller was grateful to his Master for providing its protection.

That moment faded as the birds quickly realized the helmet made his head inaccessible. Their beaks began to stab at him everywhere, piercing his skin. He screamed, his hand going for his lightsaber, only to find his belt loop empty. To his horror, he realized that his Master had also disarmed him.

The birds pecked relentlessly at the boy, and Starkiller felt warm blood trickle from each wound. He cowered, trying in vain to bat the birds away. "Master!" PROXY's voice called. "Their saliva is poisonous…if you do not destroy them, it will paralyze you!" Starkiller flailed at them, the Force hitting the bars of the cage more often than it did the birds. "I can't see them!" he cried, and his hands went to remove the helmet.

He froze in the act of undoing the strap as PROXY called again, "Master! Do not remove that helmet or they will peck out your eyes!"

Starkiller shuddered at the thought. He couldn't see. Blind and helpless, he already felt the effects of the poison numbing his arms. How did his Master expect him to fight if he couldn't see? The Force thrummed around him, and despite the pain, he forced his mind to focus on the birds. For a moment there was nothing, and then out of the darkness, he saw a glowing aura.

It flitted past his "vision" and he brought up a hand, swatting it firmly away from him. His hand connected with the body of one of the birds, and it flew away from him with a squawk. That was the secret then. Grimly, he poured all his focus into the Force, and as clearly as if his eyes were not covered, he saw them flitting about him, almost able to anticipate the stings before they came.

He knocked the birds away for seemingly hours, but they kept coming back, refusing to be dissuaded from a meal, no matter how hard it was won. Starkiller realized then that his Master intended to leave him here with the creatures until they – or he – died.

Starkiller could barely move his arms now, and he felt numbness creeping rapidly up his legs. He was running out of time. He focused all his anger and hate on one of the birds, and the Force responded to his call. He heard the creature scream once before its heart was crushed by an invisible hand. The second dropped from mid-air, landing heavily at his feet, and by the time the numbness had reached his torso, he sensed no more of the birds in the Force.

They were dead, and he lived.

He managed to take one step towards his Master before he fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

><p>Vader watched impassively as the skinny droid rushed into the cage, anxiously checking the boy's vitals before picking him up with an odd sort of tenderness and carrying him swiftly back into the rooms that served as both training room and prison.<p>

The Sith Lord stared at the corpses of the birds that lay on the floor of the cage for a moment before he turned and left the hangar, the heavy doors closing silently behind him.

**A/N: This took longer than I had expected, for lots of reasons. Expect revisions, since this entire story is an experiment in stringing together what amounts to vague back story references from the novels. **


	3. Chapter 3

A slender hand pushed blonde locks impatiently aside as she set down the last box. "Why don't you have the droids do that?" A deep voice spoke from the doorway of her bedroom. Clear blue eyes focused on the man who stood there, wearing the uniform of an Imperial officer. "I prefer to carry these things myself, Father…" the girl said, her voice soft. "These were…mother's keepsakes."

The man in the uniform stared at her a long moment, then turned on his heel and limped from the room. He had been wounded in the service of the Empire shortly before her mother's illness, and despite the best care of the medical droids, there was nothing to be done about the damage to his leg since he had refused the usual amputation and prosthetic replacement.

Juno Eclipse sighed, looking around at the stacks of boxes that contained her life scattered in the small room. The move to the capital had been abrupt - her father had pulled her out of the school she'd attended for as long as she could remember in the middle of the term. Despite having to leave her friends, she hadn't argued. She knew why they couldn't stay in their house anymore…the house she'd been raised in, the house her mother had died in.

She closed her eyes, feeling older than her 8 years.

Her mother's disease had been sudden onset – a variety of plague common to Outer Rim worlds they had been told, presumably contracted during a mission - her mother had been a Xenobiologist.

She remembered clearly her mother's slow decline as the disease took her ability to move, then her dignity, and finally her mind.

The woman who had stared at her before the medical droids ushered her out wasn't her mother anymore, but an empty shell, her blue eyes clouded from the drugs she'd been given to kill pain, containing no sign of the laughter and sharp wit she remembered. It had been the last time Juno had seen her mother alive.

Her father had changed after his wife's death. He had started coming home late, often smelling of drink, and once or twice Juno had woken to disturbing sounds from what had been her parents bedroom. She had not dared to go sneak a peek, afraid of what she would see. Sometimes she would see the droid servants escort a woman to the door as the sun rose over the city, and she would turn her face into her pillow, clenching her fists with anger.

She shook her head, setting the box of her mother's things aside carefully, eyeing the stack of boxes. She couldn't decide what to unpack first, and so she decided to explore their new home. Her father was nowhere about as she padded through the cluttered space. Droids scurried about, largely ignoring her as they hurried to bring in the last of the furniture and boxes. She spotted her father outside their building, directing the last of the boxes destined for storage. This dwelling was smaller than their old one had been.

Idly, she wandered through the living room, stopping at the databank console. There were sometimes interesting things to be found on a previously-owned databank, and Juno had received enough education to do some basic slicing. But should she? She looked around quickly. Her father would be furious if he knew…but he wasn't here, was he? He was occupied…and after all, it might be useful to know something about the previous owners.

Her mind made up, she slid into the seat in front of the databank, her hands moving quickly across the console. In a short amount of time, she was browsing through old archive files on the databank. Many had been erased, but it didn't look as if the previous owner had much to hide. Most of what she found was old shopping lists, reminders for uniform cleaning and a few old holonovels that contained descriptions of things her mother used to tell her she would explain when Juno was older.

Deep in the archives, she found a large file. It appeared to be a holovid, partially erased or corrupted. Frowning, she selected it, looking at the file information. Her eyes widened as she read the date. This recording had been made during the Clone Wars! She knew about the Clone Wars, they were a well-documented part of history. The Empire had triumphed over the Separatist rebellion, destroying the Separatist resistance and bringing peace to the galaxy, ruled by the benevolent Emperor Palpatine.

She held her breath as she clicked the file to open it. At first she saw a black screen, and disappointment stabbed her sharply before the blackness faded to a view of an open planetary expanse. Her eyes narrowed, and she dredged the name of the planet from lectures on geography. Geonosis. She was looking at Geonosis. As she watched, the camera's view shifted. She saw a man in a dark cloak on a podium speaking, and then it cut out for a moment before the view was restored again and saw three figures in an arena below the man in the dark cloak, fighting large creatures.

They were obviously prisoners of some kind, she deduced, seeing the glint of chains around one person's wrists - likely sentenced to death. She frowned. Public executions were a barbaric practice – she knew the Empire's execution methods were far more humane.

She had been taught that the Geonoshian culture was at least partially based on arena fighting, so it made sense they would order prisoners executed there. As she watched, the holo cut out again, and then she saw a large group of beings, aliens of all kinds, all wearing the same strange uniform…earth-colored robes that hung to their heels with deep cowls. But what caught her eye and made her gasp aloud was the blades of light they wielded.

Most were blue or green, she spotted one that was purple. The holo began to deteriorate as the fight continued, but she watched in awe as the beings with the glowing blades of light began to push back hordes of Geonoshians. Their movements were elegant and graceful - almost like a dance, she thought.

She jumped as her father's hand intruded on her vision, slamming down on the delete button with a snarl.

"Filthy murderers!" her father growled. Juno looked up at him, her eyes still wide in shock.

"Who were they?" she asked, softly, her voice filled with awe.

"Who were they?" her father demanded, his face going red with anger. "They were filthy, murdering betrayers of our great Emperor Palpatine! Don't they teach you anything in those schools?" Juno was stung by his comment, and he seemed further agitated by her reaction. "You've got unpacking to finish, girl. Get to it, and don't let me catch you snooping in this old databank again!"

Juno got up and hurried back to her room, closing the door behind her with a sigh of relief. She turned towards the pile of boxes, starting to unpack them, but her mind remained on the strange beings she had seen – the beings who repelled their enemies with thought and gesture and blades of pure light.

* * *

><p>Starkiller came to slowly, and found himself staring up at the ceiling of his own quarters. He blinked back cobwebs, sitting up and resting his head in one hand. He appeared uninjured, save for a few new scars obviously from the birds' needlelike beaks. He flexed his toes and fingers experimentally, glad to be able to move again. He glanced around his cramped quarters, his gaze falling on PROXY, who rose from the chair he had obviously been seated in a long time, judging from the squeal of protest that came from one of his joints.<p>

PROXY's photoreceptors glowed warmly. "Ah, Master. I am very glad you're not dead…I look forward to killing you myself, after all." Starkiller was silent, then said, "How long was I out?" PROXY's servomotors whirred as he came towards the boy's bunk, and he was silent so long Starkiller tensed, his hand moving stealthily towards the lightsaber at his belt.

The droid noticed his gesture and stopped moving towards him. "It has been several days, Master. I had feared at first you would die for certain. Lord Vader even came to see you once, the second day." Starkiller looked up at that comment, his eyes alight with excitement. "Really?" he said, breathlessly. PROXY nodded. "Lord Vader stayed for about half an hour and then left." Starkiller sat on his bunk, still stunned from the revelation. He was not given time to consider it as PROXY offered him a slim metal hand.

"Master, you have been prone for quite some time. You will need to spar to loosen up your muscles again." Starkiller absently took the droid's hand, allowing himself to be helped off the bunk. His Master had come to see him! Excitement bubbled within him. He thought back to the incident in the cage, and remembered how grateful he had been for the helmet when the birds had started to attack. PROXY led him out into the training area, and he stopped, tugging on the droid's hand.

PROXY stopped, looking down at him. "What is it Master?" he asked, and Starkiller swallowed, feeling a lump rise in his throat. He didn't know why he suddenly felt like crying, but he fought back the tears as he said, "PROXY…do you…" his voice faltered and then he managed to whisper, "Do you think Master…cares about me?" PROXY observed the hopeful expression on the boy's face and sighed.

"I think that Lord Vader is very interested in your survival, young Master, whether he says so or not. In order to survive, you must be strong and train hard."

It was not exactly the answer the boy had wanted to hear, and PROXY saw some disappointment in his gaze for an instant before his expression hardened with resolve. "You're right PROXY…" he said, softly, his tone neutral now. "I should train hard." With that, Starkiller attacked the startled droid, who quickly recovered and started a training module.

Watching via the private security feed in his office, Darth Vader nodded approvingly. "All too easy," he muttered. The boy was almost ready to be sent out against his enemies. He only needed one more thing.

A noise louder than any he'd ever heard startled him from a sound sleep sometime later, and Starkiller instinctively rolled from his bunk, his lightsaber ignited and held before him in a defensive stance. He blinked at the red of his lightsaber casting bloody shadows on the walls as he came fully awake. The noise came from outside his quarters, and he frowned, going to the door. It did not open on his approach, and he sighed. Of course, his door was still locked for the night, and so he sheathed his weapon and pressed his ear to the door, listening.

He heard the noise go on for a few minutes longer, and it sounded as if machinery were being moved. After a few more minutes, the noise faded, and Starkiller held his breath as he listened, his ears straining to hear anything that would indicate what had caused the noise. He heard footsteps then, and he recognized the light step, the sound of metal on metal. "PROXY…" he whispered. He stepped back from the door, quickly jumping back into bed and turning from the door, trying to look as if he were sleeping.

The door opened, and PROXY's voice floated over to him. "I know you are awake Master…your respiration and heart rate are too high for you to be asleep. Come and eat your morning meal quickly. Lord Vader will be here in a few minutes." Starkiller had never moved through his morning routine so fast in his life, wolfing down his gruel and draining the bottle of water in two gulps. PROXY watched him, tilting his head. His tone was warning as he said, "I know you are excited Master, but you must conduct yourself properly when Lord Vader is here. He will not be pleased if you are too exuberant."

Starkiller swallowed, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to be calm. PROXY was right, of course. He should act calmly, with the proper deference for his Master and teacher. He saw PROXY nod approvingly as he calmed himself, taking a moment to meditate, wrapping the familiar anger around him like a shield. He rose to his feet, the long hours of training showing themselves mutely in the innate grace he displayed, belying his age.

PROXY led him out into the large hangar. The cage that had contained the birds was gone, and in its place was a small, sleek ship. Starkiller's eyes widened as he looked it over. "PROXY!" he breathed. "What is that?" He was startled his Master's deep voice answered him. "It is the _Rogue Shadow_."

In an instant, Starkiller knelt before his Master, his head bowed. He dared not speak, and after a moment, his Master spoke again. "This ship is yours. You will use it to further your own education in my service." Starkiller could not voice the sudden feeling that rose in his throat, and so he said, "Thank you, my Master."

Vader's tall boots moved from his field of vision for an instant. "First, you must earn the right to use it."

Starkiller moved without thinking when he heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber. His own weapon came up to block his Master's blow. He did not question why his Master attacked him - he merely fought, using every trick he had learned and everything PROXY had taught him.

It was not enough, and his initial confidence in his ability faded as his Master continued to attack relentlessly. They danced around the ship, Starkiller barely fending off his Master's heavier blows. Starkiller was not aware of time passing as he traded parries and attacks with the Sith Lord. He was lost in the flow of the battle itself, for the first time in his life aware of the fact the Force could do more than destroy.

It could invigorate tired muscles, dull the pain of burns, fight off fatigue. Instinctively, Starkiller utilized these methods in the face of his Master's tireless attacks. He knew from the force of his Master's blows that should he falter the tiniest amount or hesitate for even an instant, his life would be forfeit in one stroke of his Master's blade.

Starkiller did not think as they fought, moving purely on instinct. His Master was stronger than he by many magnitudes, but as they fought he realized he had the advantage of speed and dexterity…his Master's mechanical limbs restricted many of his movements. Even so, his Master was also far more skilled, and Starkiller was unable to land any blows, though many came close.

Eventually however, even Starkiller's newfound ability to renew himself with the Force was slowly beaten down by his Master's tireless, mechanical assault. Starkiller felt his strength beginning to fade, and he realized grimly that eventually he would make a mistake and then….

He poured more of his focus into the Force, drawing energy from it once more determined not to give up. He parried a stroke and ducked under his Master's blade, flicking his own blade out in a counterattack. He missed, but the stroke was close enough to force his Master back a step. Starkiller was so focused on his Master as he darted in for a killing stroke he did not see the blackness that crept over his vision.

Vader stepped out of the way as the boy's unconscious form hit the durasteel deck, his lightsaber sheathing upon contact with the ground. Silently, he stooped, turning the boy over with a gloved hand. The boy still breathed, though his breathing was shallow, his heartbeat fast and erratic. Inside his mask, Vader smiled, a grotesque thing mercifully concealed. The boy had used too much of his own power to keep himself going past his endurance.

Vader was grudgingly impressed the boy had managed to draw on the Force for endurance on instinct alone. The boy's power was great indeed, and when he was strong enough, Vader would turn his weapon loose. Soon, very soon. What were a few more years when he had waited this long already for his revenge?

He looked up as PROXY ran over, anxiously looking over Starkiller's prone form.

"Take him to his quarters." The skinny droid wasted no time in lifting the boy's thin form and starting to hurry off with him. "When he wakes, you will begin instructing him on piloting and managing the ship." PROXY turned, bowing stiffly over Starkiller's unconscious form. "As you wish, Lord Vader."

**A/N Edited: I added a bit to this chapter about Juno's mother…she had to have more of a background than I originally gave her for other pieces of the story to fit. One of these days I'll find a beta reader to catch this sort of thing. **


	4. Chapter 4

PROXY strode towards the closed door of his Master's quarters, the glow from his photoreceptors reflecting off the metallic panels on the walls.

Two years had passed since the day Starkiller had dueled his Master for a day and a night. Those two years had been spent learning everything there was to know about the sleek ship he now used in his Master's service. When he had woken from the bout, PROXY had immediately started on lessons in astronavigation – lessons the boy found tedious, though he was able to become a competent pilot in a surprisingly short amount of time – due in part, PROXY suspected, to his unconscious use of the Force.

PROXY had diffidently requested the assignment of a pilot to the ship, that Starkiller might better be able to focus on his mission without the distraction of having to pilot the ship himself, and after a few near-disastrous escapes, Vader had agreed. PROXY stopped at the doorway, entering the unlock code. The door slid open, and he looked towards the bunk where his young Master normally slept. The bunk was empty, and from the 'fresher PROXY could clearly hear the shower running.

A few minutes later his Master stepped out of the tiny 'fresher, a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes were reddened and puffy, showing signs of lack of sleep. PROXY surmised he had been up all night meditating again, since this had been a rare night PROXY himself had not woken his Master from sleep with a training module. His Master stopped as he saw PROXY regarding him, his hand unconsciously reaching for a lightsaber. His Master's thin hand brushed the edge of the towel, and his eyes widened as he realized he had left himself unarmed.

In an instant his lightsaber flew to his hand, his stance shifting to one of defense. The boy and the droid eyed each other, the boy's weapon unlit. PROXY regarded him a moment longer, then said, "You are up early today, Master." PROXY watched the boy relax, some tension leaving the his thin frame. "I couldn't sleep," he muttered softly. "I had those dreams again." PROXY silently handed his Master his worn training uniform, and Starkiller slipped it on without a word, tightening straps here and there. It fit him a little less loosely every year.

"What dreams are those Master? The ones about fire?" PROXY asked as he followed the boy from the room. Starkiller was silent, then said softly, "Yes…I smell a forest on fire and…" PROXY saw the boy shake his head. "It's nothing. I don't know why I even have those, anyway." PROXY was quiet a moment, then said, "I notice you tend to have those dreams during a particular time of year. Would you like me to extrapolate a pattern and provide a report?"

He saw the thin shoulders shrug. "It doesn't matter."

PROXY filed away the observation for another time. "It is time for your morning meal, Master." Starkiller shook his head again. "I'm not hungry." PROXY considered protesting, but he scanned his Master and concluded in his current emotional state, arguing would only make him angry. He decided to change the subject. "Your new pilot arrives today, Master."

PROXY saw a glimmer of interest in his Master's eyes. "Who is it?" he asked, and PROXY shimmered, becoming an older man in an Imperial sergeant's uniform. His hazel eyes were tired, his expression stern. "Sergeant Ian McGaris, Imperial pilot until recently for a Jedi prison transport." Starkiller frowned. "A Jedi prison transport?" he said, his gaze narrowing. "The Jedi were all wiped out during the Clone Wars." PROXY, still in the guise of the old sergeant, nodded. "True Master…after the Clone Wars ended, transports formerly used for Jedi were used for rogue Force-sensitives who refused to serve the Empire - and the few Jedi who escaped the Empire's justice." Starkiller frowned, but remained silent as PROXY continued. "Sergeant McGaris was requested for this operation due to your need to have someone else pilot the ship…Lord Vader wishes you to be focused on your mission and nothing else."

Starkiller nodded. PROXY shimmered back to his usual form as they left the training room and entered the hangar where the _Rogue Shadow_ waited. Starkiller immediately noticed the sergeant, heavier than his hologram had been, standing at attention in front of the _Rogue Shadow's_ ramp. Seeing the man there suddenly made Starkiller feel apprehensive…other than his Master and PROXY, he had experienced no direct contact with another being since he had been brought to the _Executor_.

PROXY noticed the hesitation in his gait and stepped forward, offering the man a thin metal hand. "Greetings, Sergeant McGaris. I am PROXY, and this is Starkiller." Starkiller watched the man's expression go from neutral to surprised. He saw the hazel eyes narrow at him, the mouth turning down in a frown. "I was expecting Lord Vader."

Starkiller met his gaze squarely, and he saw and felt the man's contempt. Anger rose within him, but he stilled the urge to loose it on this man. After all, his Master had assigned the pilot to him, and his Master's orders were to be followed to the letter.

"My Master has other concerns. You are the pilot?"

Starkiller's still-childish voice held a very un-childlike note of command. The pilot sneered openly now. "I am the pilot boy, and it's clear no one taught you any respect for your elders." Starkiller resisted the urge to run the man through once more, and the room went still as the sound of Vader's breathing echoed in the room. Starkiller immediately dropped to one knee, bowing his head as his Master approached.

Vader strode up to the small group, his gaze missing nothing. The pilot tensed as Vader came up silently, snapping a smart salute. "Lord Vader. I was told I would be escorting an agent of yours." Vader was silent a long moment, then said, "Yes. My agent is the boy. You will transport him and his droid as missions require. Should a word of any of this pass your lips, I will see to it your death is prolonged."

The pilot did not hide his shock as he looked down at the kneeling form of the boy, who had not moved. He was so still he might have been a statue, and the pilot found his instantaneous mute subservience more than a little disturbing given his earlier brash attitude.

"B-But…Lord Vader. Surely you're not serious…sending this child to…" McGaris's protest was cut off as he was lifted into the air by an invisible hand. Vader's voice was dangerously soft as he said, "My orders are not to be questioned for any reason at any time. The boy is my servant, as are you. You will fly him where his missions demand. You will fly him back here when they are complete. Should you fail in any of these tasks, I will be very…disappointed."

By now McGaris's face had gone very red, and he could only nod from the tightness of the grip on his throat. "Y-Yes…Lord Vader," he managed to croak, and he was released suddenly, falling heavily to the floor. The boy did not so much as twitch.

"Starkiller."

The boy dared to look up at his Master for an instant before his dark eyes went automatically to the floor. "What is thy bidding, my Master?" he said, softly. "I require information. You will gather it and bring it back here. I will send a transmission once you are underway with your target. Do not fail me."

Starkiller swallowed, bowing once. "I won't, Master."

Vader snorted. "We shall see. Go."

Starkiller headed for the ramp of the ship without another word, followed after a few minutes by PROXY, who discreetly nudged the still-stunned pilot towards the ramp. The pilot breathed an audible sigh of relief as the ramp closed. Starkiller eyed him, a hint of amusement showing in his expression before he turned and strode down the hall. "I'll be in my meditation chamber. PROXY, when Master sends the word, please meet me there." The skinny droid nodded. "Of course, young Master."

By the third hour into their trip, McGaris had heard exactly two words from the strange boy which consisted of "Nar Shadda." He had been given no other details, and the droid hadn't been any help, either. The droid sat quietly in the furthest chair back, and his glowing photoreceptors were more often than not fixed on the skinny form of the boy, who sat staring out the viewport, his chin resting in one hand. They both seemed perfectly content with the silence that pervaded the cockpit, but it set McGaris on edge. The few children he had been around in his life had been boisterous and noisy, constantly moving about.

Silently, he compared his memories of children he'd seen to the silent boy who sat across from him. The boy was skinny, true, but he also noted the play of muscle beneath his pale skin, more muscle than a boy his age ought to have. He noticed a surety and grace in the boy's movements that was distinctly out of place, belying many hours of training for...what, exactly? The pilot frowned to himself, busying his hands with the controls. Who was the boy, anyway? Was he Vader's son? The thought chilled him, and he dared not think any harder on that possibility. He was startled out of his contemplation by the boy's voice.

"If you think any louder, they'll be able to hear you in Coruscant, Sergeant."

McGaris almost jumped. He had heard whispers of the things Jedi could do...pushing something or someone without touching it, twisting people's minds to do their bidding. The chill settled more deeply in him as he stared at the boy, who now eyed him, his dark eyes glinting with knowledge. Before he could voice the thought that stuck in the back of his throat, the boy answered him.

"I am not a Jedi." He paused a moment, then said, "I am _more_."

The pilot felt the blood drain from his face as the boy rose lithely to his feet, striding from the room silently. The door slid shut behind him, and the pilot turned to face the droid, who blinked benignly. "Yes, Sergeant?" McGaris considered his options, then snapped his mouth shut and shook his head, turning back to the control panels, obviously disturbed. "We will arrive at Nar Shadda within the hour." PROXY nodded. "Very good. I will inform my Master."

PROXY did not have to go far to find his young charge. Starkiller was just inside the door of his meditation chamber, trying vainly to stifle laughter. Had PROXY the ability to smile, he would have. It was seldom indeed his Master ever exhibited any emotion other than anger. Now, his eyes glinted with real mirth and his smile was genuine. "Did you see the look on his face PROXY? That was priceless. I'm glad you told me about him having been a Jedi transport pilot." PROXY could not laugh with his Master, but he put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I am glad you are amused Master. However, your observation of his fears is very astute...and very useful in gleaning information from a target, as you will need to do once we reach Nar Shadda."

Starkiller's boyish grin faded at the reminder of his mission, and PROXY wished for a brief moment he could disobey his programming.

A moment passed, and the expression faded from his face. Starkiller spoke quietly. "Of course. I almost...forgot. I'll get back to work studying those building layouts." Without any prompting, Starkiller left the room, heading for the console in his quarters. PROXY stared at the empty meditation chamber, then silently began setting up a training session. His Master would need training soon, he reasoned, to stay focused on his task - and the work distracted him from any contemplation on his earlier wish.

Starkiller read over the console again, feeling frustration rise within him at his Master's succinct orders...he had only one night to steal the datapad of the Huttese gangster. The mission was, as his missions had been, strictly for information gathering. He was to get in, get the information by any means necessary, and get out without being seen. He mulled over what guise to use to infiltrate the gangster's hideout. A waif? Unlikely that hardened criminals would take any pity on an orphan child. Absently, he drew his lightsaber from it's holster, flipping the hilt end over end as he moved towards his closet, mulling over the various disguises within it. Something prickled the back of his neck, and he tensed unconsciously.

It was almost with relief he heard the snap-hiss of a lightsaber. He whirled, igniting his own weapon with a delighted snarl. His red blade clashed with the blue held by a now-familiar face. Starkiller had looked up the name of the Jedi whose visage he now fought - that of the Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi - disappeared and presumed dead after the Jedi Purge. The General was tall, his robes and boots immaculate as usual, but Starkiller was taller and stronger now. He ducked the swing, planting a foot squarely in the faux-Kenobi's chest, pinning him against the console and driving his blade into his chest in one motion.

Kenobi shimmered, and in his place stood PROXY, his chestplate smoking a little. "Ah Master. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you expected my attack."

Starkiller frowned, sheathing his blade. "I didn't know..." he said, but even as the words left his mouth, he wasn't entirely sure what he said was the truth. He shook his head. "PROXY, I'm out of ideas on the best way to infiltrate the Huttese gangster's hideout...they wouldn't let a child in, and unless I get past the perimeter it's going to be hard to get in while he's there...he's only going to be there one night." PROXY righted himself and tapped his metal chin thoughtfully. "Master, the Hutts are known to enjoy the company of slave girls. Perhaps we could use that as a way to sneak in."

The light glinted from the hilt of Starkiller's lightsaber as he flipped it, thinking hard. The silence stretched on, and Starkiller looked up as the navicomp chimed to announce their destination. "I've got an idea."

* * *

><p>"Juno! Hey Juno! Wait!"<p>

Juno turned, trying vainly to control the stack of datapads she held in her hands. Her friend Sen slowed in her run as she approached, her uniform showing signs of creasing. "You would think there was a pack of Wookiees after you, the way you were going," Juno said dryly. Sen shot her an irritated look, straightening her uniform, flipping her long red hair over one shoulder.

"How you can move so fast carrying all those datapads is beyond me!" Seeing Juno's clear blue eyes harden, she added hastily, "Are you sure you won't come?" Juno sighed, absently catching one of the datapads as it started to slide off the stack. "I told you I can't, I'm sorry...I've got all this studying to do." The other girl sighed exasperatedly. "Juno, that project on the Jedi Purge isn't due until next week...there's plenty of time for you to read about savage cultists later...and the party is only one night." The redhead lowered her voice and said conspiratorially, "I heard Kieran is going to be there...word is he's had his eye on you. You should ask him out!"

Juno rolled her eyes, sighing. Kieran. The son of a General, he was tall for his age, handsome and had great prospects in the Empire. Her father spent a great deal of time cultivating a relationship with his, perhaps in hopes of being promoted despite his injury, which Juno knew would keep him out of service. The Empire did not tolerate the slightest imperfection in its soldiers. She sighed heavily. To that end, her father had also pushed the boy at her, finding opportunities to invite him to dinner at their residence. Privately, Juno found her father's behavior deplorable, and Kieran's company unbearable. It was clear the boy thought she ought to be thrilled to be in his presence.

She was brought back to herself as the bell rang for the next class. She shook her head again resolutely, clutching her datapads to her like a shield as she hurried off, calling behind her, "Sorry. I've really got to go!"

* * *

><p>The sun had long since set by the time Juno raised her head from the last datapad. She stretched, wincing as stiff muscles protested from hours of sitting hunched over the databank screen. Her report on the Jedi Purge was done, and she felt much wiser for having completed it. The blades of light she had seen years before from the old databank file were called 'lighsabers' and they were the weapon of Jedi, the hated betrayers of the Empire. Once, the Jedi had been noble protectors of the galaxy, but they had turned against the benevolent rule of the Emperor and tried to assassinate him towards the end of the Clone Wars...it was for this reason Emperor Palpatine was rarely seen in public, and then usually wearing a heavy hood to conceal his features.<p>

It was whispered the Jedi had tortured the Emperor, burning away much of his skin, and that the resulting disfigurement was too hideous to behold. Juno had met the Emperor once when he had visited her primary school, clad in ornate robes of black and gold. She had stumbled in the line of students brought forward to greet him with the Empire's anthem, and before her teacher could reprimand her for her clumsiness, the Emperor himself had stooped with almost-inhuman grace to catch her before she hit the polished marble floor.

The silence that had greeted them as the Emperor helped her to her feet was profound, and he had said only one thing, his voice raspy and soft. "Do be more careful next time, my child." His hand, dry and wrinkled with age, had patted her cheek gently as if she were a beloved granddaughter. Juno had blushed, pressing her hand to her cheek in awe, casting her eyes at the polished floor. She heard the Emperor chuckle softly as he moved down the hallway, his robes swishing.

Juno had been surprised that she was not swiftly punished, but her teacher told her later in confidence that the Emperor himself had ordered she be excused from the usual punishment since "she was only a child, after all." The teacher had reminded her sharply of how grateful and lucky she should be for the Emperor's kindness, and so Juno had stopped to lay flowers at the base of his statue on the way home.

What Juno had never told anyone about that day was that the Emperor's touch had chilled her to her very bones. Instead of giving her a sense of comfort, security and pride that the Emperor had bothered to stop and help her, she felt only a strange coldness from him, a sense of wrongness and fear. She shook her head, focusing once more on her report, checking it over for errors for the fourth time. It had to be perfect - she knew her History teacher was exacting, and she wanted to maintain her perfect grades.

Her father's voice echoed through her door. "Bedtime, Juno."

The girl sighed, glancing over her report once more before saving it and shutting down the databank. She crawled into her bed, one hand rubbing the cheek the Emperor had touched. She shivered, feeling for a moment as if someone were watching her, and then the feeling was gone as she fell asleep.

**A/N: Yes, it's been forever...yes, I am still working on it. Moving tends to delay lots of things, but I've got Chapter 5 about 60% finished.**


	5. Chapter 5

Starkiller clamped down hard on the unreasoning panic that threatened for a brief moment to get away from him. The crate he hid within was a tight fit even for his thin frame. Dimly through the durasteel he heard PROXY's voice, in the dulcet tones of the droid's assumed form, that of a Twi'lek slave girl. He forced himself to breathe slowly and shallowly to conserve what air was available. He closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force, and the conversation occurring outside the container came to him as clearly as if he stood there listening.

"She looks healthy enough to serve...we'll see what Korsh says. Grab that crate!"

The crate was lifted and moved, and Starkiller silently counted steps before he heard the sound of a door opening. The next few moments were almost unbearable for him to wait as the crate was set down and he sensed the people who had come in with PROXY leave. He cast about in the Force, and when he was sure he was alone, he quietly opened the crate, taking a breath of air with relief. He appeared to be in a storage room, and he hopped out of the crate, landing silently and closing the lid once more.

Starkiller forced the door to the storage closet open, slipping quickly through it and closing it once more. He was thankful for the darkness of the corridor beyond. He looked around for a reference point. After a few moments, he was able to determine his rough position in the building and quietly muttered a curse. PROXY had a strange perspective on manners - while he had no compunctions about trying to kill his Master on a daily basis, he tended to get upset if he heard the boy using coarse language. Out of respect for his only companion, Starkiller rarely used the more colorful language he'd heard on various missions while on the _Executor_, but he found the word fit his situation perfectly.

He was in the wrong part of the hideout. The storage closet he had been deposited in was in the slave harem, one of the most closely guarded and heavily locked down areas of any Hutts' residence. He should have planned on the potential of winding up in the slave quarters, seeing as their ruse had been PROXY - in the form of a busty slave girl - being sent as a gift along with a shipment of spice from the gangsters estranged lover. He heard footsteps coming down the corridor, and without thinking he dove back into the storage closet, pressing his ear to the door.

"What do you think of that new slave?" a light, obviously female voice said. Another responded, a haughty tone to her voice. "I could care less as long as she keeps that disgusting Gundark-bait busy a few nights." Their voices faded as they left the corridor, and Starkiller slipped back out of the storage closet and made his way quickly down the hallway, opposite the direction the two slaves had come. As he moved, he risked hitting his com. "PROXY!" he hissed. "Where are you?" There was no answer, and he ground his teeth together in frustration as he made his way through the corridors.

They looked the same, and he was soon lost. He needed PROXY, or someone to provide him a reference point. He hit his com again, this time raising his voice a little. "Sergeant, this is Starkiller. Answer." A moment passed, and Starkiller was a little shocked at the relief that flowed through him as the portly pilot answered, sounding a bit startled. "This is McGaris."

Starkiller's voice was low as he said, "I need you to get the maps of the slave quarters and give me some direction towards the target's office. I got turned around. Hurry!" Starkiller felt as if he would leap out of his skin by the time the pilot's voice came back. "Take the next left down the corridor. It heads towards the main audience hall. You'll have to get through there to reach the office space, the office is behind the stage." Starkiller ground his teeth together. How in space was he going to sneak through an audience hall filled with guards? He couldn't wait for the room to shut down for the night.

Deciding he'd make up his mind when he got closer to the target, he made his way through the corridors, avoiding various slaves, guards and guests. From overhearing conversation, he gathered the Huttese gangster was throwing a party to celebrate his Huttlet's name-day. Briefly, he noted that he'd never had any kind of name-day celebration...on further thought he realized glumly that he didn't even know when his name-day was. He bit back on the sudden lump that rose in his throat at the thought. This was no time to get emotional, he chided himself. He had to complete the mission, find PROXY and get out quickly...the longer he lingered, the more chance he had of being caught.

He heard the noise of the audience hall before he reached it. A steady beat punctuated by rapid dance music in a tongue he couldn't understand throbbed through the walls he pressed himself against. He glanced around quickly, hearing footsteps and the high laughter of some being coming down the corridor. If he didn't move now he would be spotted for sure. He spied an air vent grate above his head, and calling on the Force, he leapt for it, hanging from it breathlessly as a cadre of scantily-dressed slave girls walked right where he had been.

Starkiller used the Force to augment his strength again as he pulled the grate loose from the vent, swung up into it, and closed it again behind him. A fan somewhere below blew cold air on him, and he shivered in his worn uniform. He was grateful for the noise of it as he ignited his lightsaber, touching the very edge of the blade to the grate and the edge of the opening, melting it enough to seal it. From the outside, no one would know he came this way. He crawled along the vent, touching his com once more. "McGaris, have you heard from PROXY?"

The pilot's voice came back. "Yes. Your droid was only able to send a text communication, but he says you must hurry, the Hutt will be retiring to his office to count the month's earnings after the last dance - which is in 15 standard minutes, if I am not mistaken. Your chances of getting the datapad once he's there decrease significantly." Starkiller growled. "What's the shortest way to the office through the vents?"

There was another agonizingly long wait before McGaris replied, "Two rights, drop down a level, a left, a right - be careful over the stage because that portion of the vent system is exposed - and another right should put you right over the office." Silently Starkiller repeated the directions in his head as he followed them. He reached the exposed portion of the vents as the curtain went up over the stage, and froze as lights seemingly focused directly on him.

Below him, the slave-girls - he noticed PROXY's assumed form among them with relief - began a dance routine.

Starkiller felt a hot blush rise in his face as the dance continued. He thought briefly about moving back into the covered vent so he didn't have to watch, but with the angle of the lights, if he moved at all he would be caught. So he crouched in the venting above the stage and swallowed hard, averting his eyes as best he could from the gyrating, sweating forms of the slave girls. He focused his gaze on the watching form of the Huttese gangster, but the Hutt's own reaction to the dance made bile rise in his throat. A cry from below wrenched his attention back to the slave girls. One of them had tripped, and she fell against the others, knocking several more, including PROXY to the ground.

The music stopped abruptly, and Starkiller unconsciously held his breath as the Huttese gangster roared something in his own language. Starkiller didn't understand the gangsters words, but he did understand the implication as the slave girl who had fallen threw herself to the floor, shaking in terror as two of the burly guards grabbed her roughly, depositing her at the base of the Hutt's divan. The rest of the slave girls, PROXY included, were ushered off the stage. The slave girl pled with the Huttese gangster, who snarled something in response. One of the Hutts attendants whispered something in its ear, and the Hutt laughed uproariously.

A moment later, the guards grabbed the slave girl again. She struggled and screamed - presumably for mercy - as a larger grate Starkiller hadn't noticed in the floor opened. From beyond the grate, Starkiller sensed a terrible darkness. There was something in there...something hungry and primal. The slave girl screamed as she was thrown in, and the grate closed behind her with a slam. Starkiller saw her hand reach out from the grate helplessly before her screams were abruptly cut off with a bone-cracking crunch.

The feel of her Force signature expiring hit him like a blow, and he gasped, his heart twisting inside his chest.

He was abruptly brought out of his shock by PROXY's voice echoing sternly over his com.

"Master? Master! You must evacuate the area immediately!"

Starkiller blinked, looking around in shock as he realized the room was now empty. Silently he cursed himself, and throwing all stealth to the wind he dropped down to the empty stage, darting for the office. The door to the office opened, and the he found himself facing the Hutt himself, surrounded by his sycophants. He didn't hear PROXY order him to leave over the com, didn't hear McGaris echo the order in a brusque sort of voice. All he saw was the slave girl's thin arm in the grate, all he heard were her cries for mercy, all he felt was the wrench and emptiness her death caused in the Force.

His memory of the next few moments was blind rage. His lightsaber sang a deadly song as he cut apart the beings in the room, heedless of the warmth of their blood on him. There was no thought to his motion, he merely moved - and beings died. He did remember the final, badly slurred Common words of the Hutt as his Force signature faded with the thick blood that pooled slowly onto the floor.

_"What are you?"_

Starkiller snarled as he brought his weapon down for the killing stroke.

"Death."

* * *

><p>Juno sat back in her seat with a sigh of relief. Her report on the Jedi Purge had gone so well, the teacher had asked that it be submitted to the Imperial Academy review board. She knew it was a high honor to be offered, especially given her age. Perhaps it would garner her favorable recognition when she applied to the Academy. She had known early on she wanted to be a pilot, but her parents had never approved of her dream.<p>

Her mother had been a Xenobiologist before her death, and one of the peculiarities of her profession had been traveling to some of the most remote planets for new specimens to study. Unlike many others in her field, her mother had hated space travel and had a low opinion of pilots in general. "Why in space would you want to be a pilot?" she'd demanded. "Piloting is dangerous, low-grade work. Not everyone can be a fighter pilot making their mark in some great war, nor would I want my only daughter in the middle of a firefight!"

Juno had been stunned by her mother's uncharacteristic vehemence. Usually, her mother was gentle, rarely using more than a stern tone with her daughter. She later learned from the medical databanks that unusual mood swings were the first sign of the disease that ultimately took her mother's life, but it didn't lessen the pain of the only time Juno's mother had ever turned on her.

Determined to find out the reason for her mother's rare and angry disapproval of her dream, she did some semi-illegal snooping in the databanks at school and discovered why her mother had been so angry...her father's leg had been ruined in a transport crash. The pilot - fresh out of the Academy - had used a risky maneuver to get away from space pirates while taking her father to his post. The transport had crashed, the pilot had been killed, and her father left permanently crippled.

Juno was careful not to mention going to the Academy to her parents after that, but she was still determined to go. She knew it was irrational to want something so badly that her parents clearly disapproved of, but she couldn't help the feeling that flying gave her. The few hours she'd trained on the flight sim at school had been an eye-opener. There was bliss to be had in the preciseness of calculating jumps - the calm, endless flow of hyperspace outside one's cockpit and even the constant chatter that came over a comlink. The feeling of being totally in control of an impressive piece of technology, that was what made her happiest.

It was just too bad her parents couldn't understand.

She shook her head, forcing herself to focus back on her datapad. It didn't matter if they understood, she thought. She knew what she was destined for, and she would prove she was worthy of being a pilot, no matter what she had to do.

* * *

><p>"You deliberately disobeyed me." Pain seared down his back, and he screamed.<p>

Darth Vader's voice echoed ominously in the room, growing louder with each sentence.

"I expressly ordered this to be an information-gathering mission." Pain again, this time lacing across his ribs.

"I needed that Hutt scum alive!" The pain curled across his shoulders.

His Master's gloved hand grasped his chin firmly, forcing his head up to look into the soulless mask.

"Why did you kill them?"

Starkiller gasped and shuddered, tears stinging his eyes. He swallowed hard.

"I - I don't know Master..."

His Master's hand dropped away from him, and Starkiller heard the snap-hiss of his lightsaber.

"Do not lie to me!" his Master roared, and Starkiller's world went white as his Master drew the tip of his lightsaber down his back, leaving a smoking trail. The scent of burned flesh filled the air, and Starkiller didn't even hear his own scream of agony. Vader's hand grabbed him again. "Answer me!"

The boy shuddered, and in a choked voice he said, "He killed her...she didn't do anything wrong and he killed her..."

He was forced to gaze into his Master's mask, and Vader's voice was quiet as he said, "Tell me."

Sobs choked Starkiller as the story spilled out. His Master listened silently, and when the boy passed out from exhaustion, he gestured.

Starkiller's thin frame fell to the floor, the chains holding him upright released.

He moved to the console and pressed a button, typing something. He shimmered, and as he turned away from the console, PROXY managed to drop the last of the hologram. The skinny droid threw the vibro-whip in his hand away with something that might have been disgust, had he been a living being.

He glanced briefly at the message the Dark Lord had left on the console for him before he rushed over to the thin, motionless form of Starkiller. He scanned his young charge anxiously, and then his voice echoed crisply over the com. "Sergeant McGaris, this is PROXY."

A moment passed, and then McGaris's voice echoed back. "Yes?"

PROXY's voice was quiet as he spoke into the com. "My Master requires immediate medical attention. Please come to the meditation room. I have unlocked the door."

There was a startled pause and then the pilot answered, "Is...is the boy alright?"

PROXY checked his Master's pulse again. "If my Master does not receive medical attention now, I will not need to fulfill my primary programming."

McGaris's betrayed a hint of thickness as he replied, "On my way."

* * *

><p>Darth Vader rose to his feet from the chair he had occupied for the past several hours, striding towards the tall windows that flanked his formal office. Though he would never admit it, the boy's anguished confession – that he had been driven to kill the Hutt for murdering a slave girl – had been circling around in his head.<p>

Despite all the evil he had done, he found to his surprise that old prejudices still held sway in his view of the universe. He had always despised the Hutts, and though the gangster was useful to him as a source of keeping tabs on the trade of Force-sensitive slaves – express orders from the Emperor, who sought to recruit the more powerful ones into his service – he found that he could not punish for the boy for something he himself would likely have done.

The nagging feeling of his own hatred of the Hutts and their despicable trade warred with his rage at the boy actively disobeying orders for the first time since Vader had taken him from the Wookiee home world. If the boy were still capable of that, he was not entirely broken, and Vader could not trust in his absolute obedience.

He should kill the boy and start over, he knew, but he hated to waste the years he had spent training him…he was powerful. As powerful perhaps, as his own child might have been, had it lived…

His thoughts were interrupted by the chime of his door. Impatience rose in him as he stood to answer it, remembering that he was expecting a General Haldar – a former flight commander now retired and living in luxury on Corulag. The Empire rewarded its officers well, and Haldar had a reputation for picking excellent pilots.

Vader sneered under his mask as he reached the door. His fabled Black Eight squadron had gone through quite a few pilots recently. He could not afford to have his aerial enforcement squad out of commission for too long.

The door slid open and a tall, muscular man in an impeccable uniform saluted smartly. Though his hair had gone grey, it was still cut in a proper Imperial military style. "Lord Vader."

Vader gestured. "General Haldar. Come in."

The General stepped into the room. "Thank you, my Lord. You summoned me?"

The Dark Lord of the Sith turned towards the windows once more. "You have a reputation for finding the best raw talent among the Academy. I require your aid in selecting new pilots." He turned back towards the man, who might have been a statue for all he had moved. "The most recent batch from the Academy was…disappointing."

The General was silent a few moments, then said, "My Lord, you have unfortunately gone through the most recent graduating class at the Academy. The next crop of graduates will not graduate for another two years…" Vader waved his hand impatiently.

"If the past few classes are any indication, the ones that graduate in two years will be as disappointing as the rest. Do you know of any pre-Academy students who show any talent?" The General blinked, then said, "As a matter of fact I do, my Lord. There are a few students who have continually been at the top of their class but…"

The General sighed a little. "They are very young, my Lord, some barely past pubescence."

Vader was silent, turning back towards the windows. "I think you underestimate a child's abilities given the…proper motivation. Get me their names and latest progress reports. You may go."

The General bowed. "At once, my Lord."

He paused a moment then said, "Ah…Lord Vader? If I might…make a suggestion?"

The Sith Lord turned, and Haldar had the impression if he could have looked startled, he would have.

"You have something else to say, General?"

General Haldar straightened. "My Lord, the pre-Academy class on Corulag is having a school function to celebrate Liberation Day in a few weeks. You would have an opportunity to personally meet most of the Academy hopefuls, if you wished."

Vader was silent a few long moments, and then said, "I will consider it, General. You are dismissed."

The General saluted again and beat a hasty retreat. The door closed, and Vader was left alone once more.

**A/N: First, I'm not dead. Life is just that busy. Second, I revised a bit of Juno's mother's back-story in Chapter 3 to better explain Juno's motivations. One of these days I'll find a beta-reader to help me catch that sort of thing. Sorry about the delay. **


	6. Chapter 6

Juno Eclipse was a in bad mood, and her mood was made worse by the fact she had been forced to stand still for the better part of an hour while a droid bustled about, pinning up cloth around her. The droid beeped, and a pleasantly-programmed voice that reminded her of a medical droid said soothingly, "I am very sorry about the delay, Miss. This will only take a few moments more. Please do not move in the interim."

There was no arguing with the little droid, whose many arms deftly continued to pin and adjust and measure even as she ground her teeth together in frustration. To try and distract herself, she stared at form in the tall mirrors that surrounded her for the 53rd (she'd kept a mental count despite herself) time. She had to admit, the color of the dress did suit her. The ice-blue silk matched her eyes, the skirt full from white petticoats that hampered movement and a modest neckline that nonetheless left no question as to her gender. She had been one of the fortunate (or unfortunate, she mused bitterly) females in her class to display signs of puberty earlier than most, but unlike her other peers who had "blossomed early" as her father put it, she found the constant attentions of various males irritating in the extreme.

Kieran had acted bored the day he had appeared at the door of their residence to "ask" her to the Liberation Day dance occurring in a few days' time. She knew that their "date" had been carefully arranged by her father and Kieran's, overriding the objections of Juno and Kieran's own mother. Juno wasn't quite sure what to think of Madame Haldar. It was true the General himself was known throughout the Empire as a powerful man - often being called upon by Lord Vader himself to choose his troopers - but the lady herself was rarely seen outside of formal appearances and rumored to be extremely private. The one time Juno had been introduced to the woman, Madame Haldar had wrinkled her nose as if offended by an odor and left the room quickly, pleading some errand.

Even Kieran had not missed his mother's disdain for her. There had been an awkward silence, and then he had asked her if she would prefer to go out into the gardens. She had agreed, more to break the silence than anything, and the rest of the night had been spent studiously examining the various plants in the garden and listening to Kieran drone on about their rarity. He had, towards the end of the night, managed to surprise her by putting a hand on her shoulder. She had turned, startled. He had never touched her before, and his voice was quiet as he said, "I am sorry if my mother offended you." His tone was quiet, and she was shocked into silence as he continued, "She never likes any girl I bring home. Seems to think none of them are worthy of me...but if it makes a difference Juno, I think she's wrong about you."

Juno had been stunned speechless as he smiled rather awkwardly and then left in a hurry, as if afraid to be seen alone with her. Her father had sent a droid for her shortly thereafter, so she hadn't had a chance to ask Kieran about what he'd meant after that.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the fitting droid's voice.

"Miss, your fitting is complete. Your gown will be ready in time for the dance. Thank you for your business!"

Juno ignored the droid as she left the fitting area, moving out into the main part of the shop. As she entered, her bodyguard rose to his feet. "Miss Eclipse, your father sent a message while you were occupied...he says he will be late coming home tonight and that I am to escort you straight to the residence." Juno sighed heavily. Being home late meant that her father would likely be coming home drunk again. She shrugged on her school uniform jacket. At least it meant she'd have a few quiet hours to study.

* * *

><p>Someone was watching him. He could feel the eyes on him, through the waves of pain that he had floated in for a seeming eternity. The pain receded as he forced himself to focus on the one watching him, seeking an identity. He felt instantly that the person - not PROXY - meant him no harm, though he was angry. It confused him for a moment, that someone would be near him, watching him, and not be angry with him. He sensed the anger was directed somewhere else, and his curiosity drove him to open his eyes.<p>

He lay in his sparse quarters on the _Rogue Shadow_, and in the console chair, McGaris stirred. "You awake, boy?" he said, gruffly, and Starkiller could hear some of the anger he struggled to control. Starkiller ignored the question and demanded, "Where is PROXY?"

The pilot frowned. "Your droid is giving a report to Lord Vader. Don't you care that you've been unconscious for the entire trip back? You almost died!"

Starkiller's breath hissed painfully as he struggled to sit up. His injuries screamed in protest, and he bit back the moan of pain that gathered in the back of his throat. The old pilot made an angry noise and moved faster than Starkiller would have thought, given his size. "What are you trying to do boy?" he demanded, but his hands, calloused and roughened, were almost gentle as he pressed the thin frame back onto the equally thin mattress. "Lie still now. You'll re-crack your ribs for sure moving around like that."

Starkiller froze reflexively as he felt the man's hand on his bare flesh. It was the first time in his life he could remember when the hands that touched him were warm, soft and human. The feel of warmth on his chest and the thrum of the man's feelings in the Force - concern and anger - made his chest tighten with more than the pain of cracked ribs. A welter of confused emotions rose within him, and he suddenly felt like crying. He swallowed the tears back and turned his head to the wall, terrified of the pilot seeing him vulnerable.

Amazingly, despite the fact the man was not Force-sensitive, he seemed to understand the boy's shuddering breaths, and his hand moved from Starkiller's chest to gently rub over the rough stubble on his head, in a gesture that was hauntingly familiar. "It's alright boy," the gruff pilot said quietly. "If I were in your shoes, I'd feel like crying too."

Starkiller wasn't sure how to feel at the old pilot's admission, but he did feel the pilot's anger grow. The door slid open, and PROXY's familiar step sounded in the small room. "Sergeant McGaris, we are approaching the _Executor_. Please make the ship ready for docking." PROXY's glowing photoreceptors did not miss the expression on Starkiller's face as he faced the door and McGaris rose to his feet, removing his hand from the boy's head. "Remember what I said about not moving around too much, boy," he admonished, but his tone belied an almost affectionate tone.

He left the room, and Starkiller stared at PROXY from his bunk. For a moment, he was almost afraid of his droid companion, though he could not understand why.

PROXY's photoreceptors blinked. "Master, when we reach the _Executor_, Lord Vader will have another mission for you. He expects that you will not deviate during this one." Starkiller was surprised at the sting of droid's words, despite the fact that PROXY was merely repeating what he had likely been told by Vader.

Quietly, he said, "PROXY...I..." The droid waited, with the immutable patience of a machine. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, and PROXY was silent a moment, then said, "Apologies do not reverse actions, Master. Actions are important, and inaction just as important, given the situation. Your inaction on the mission to Nar Shadda very nearly ended your primary programming. I would be most disappointed if your failure to maintain yourself made my primary programming unnecessary."

Starkiller tensed, waiting for an attack as PROXY's hand moved to one of his lightsaber storage compartments, but to the boy's surprise, he merely pulled Starkiller's own lightsaber from the compartment and tossed it to him. "Here is your weapon Master. It fell from your person during Lord Vader's punishment. I have cleaned and repaired your uniform. You should dress, we are finalizing docking with the _Executor_ now."

Starkiller was almost disappointed as PROXY laid the folded bundle of his worn uniform on the console table and left the room. The boy gritted his teeth as he sat up again, slowly. It looked like he would have to disregard McGaris's advice after all.

When Starkiller limped slowly down the ramp of the _Executor_ roughly an hour later, he heard McGaris' voice raised in anger. Shocked, he stood frozen on the end of the ramp as he saw the tall, dark form of his Master and the shorter, rotund form of McGaris, the latter's face red with anger. " - you beat the boy nearly to death, and for what?" McGaris snarled. "I might have condoned a lot of things in the service, but the beating of a child wasn't one of them! I refuse to be a part in that boy's abuse!"

The room was deathly silent, and Starkiller wanted suddenly to run back into the ship and hide, but years of training and his ingrained fear of his Master froze his limbs in place as McGaris turned to stare at him in surprise. The warning cry that rose in Starkiller's throat froze as his Master ignited his lightsaber. "If you do not wish to be 'a part of this' any longer, that can certainly be arranged." McGaris turned to face Vader once more, terror replacing the anger on his face as Vader's lightsaber swept down in a merciless arc, and in the next instant, Starkiller's breath fled him as McGaris's Force signature faded.

The Sith Lord faced Starkiller then, stepping casually over McGaris's corpse.

"Come here."

Automatically, Starkiller moved towards his Master, kneeling, his eyes firmly on the tall boots his Master wore. He felt the heat of his Master's lightsaber, and for an instant he almost wished it would swing down, freeing him from the fear and grief that tried to choke him senseless. His eyes went once to McGaris' still body, steaming in the cold of the hanger and then instantly back to the black of his Master's boots as Vader spoke.

"You understand why he died."

It was not a question, and Starkiller spoke softly.

"Yes, my Master."

Vader's boots moved around to his back, and he shuddered involuntarily as the tip of the lightsaber passed almost lazily over the burn in his back, sending prickles of pain through it.

"You understand your punishment if you fail me again."

Starkiller swallowed against the dryness in his mouth.

"Yes, my Master."

Vader's boots stopped, and Starkiller heard the lightsaber retract.

"You will be accompanying me on this mission." Starkiller looked up in shock, and his Master paused, his disapproval radiating in the Force. Starkiller quickly dropped his gaze to his Master's boots, and his Master continued. "I do not need to remind you to remain out of sight. Due to the untimely death of your pilot, you will pilot the ship to our next destination. I will meet you back here in one hour. The ship will be ready to depart by then."

Starkiller rose only after the door shut behind his Master's exit, still stunned from his Master's orders. He was to go on a mission with his Master! Excitement warred with his guilt as he looked down at the now-cold corpse of the man who had tried - in his own way - to comfort a frightened, hurt boy.

It was his fault, he knew. His fault for being weak, for making the man feel he needed defending and thus challenging his Master's absolute authority. Had he not been so weak, he reasoned, McGaris might still be alive, and that thought made him angry.

Why did the old pilot have to be so stubborn?

Angrily, he kicked the corpse. The body slid a few feet across the deck, leaving a trail of gore.

Why did he have to be so stupid?

Starkiller's anger burned hotter. If only he hadn't been so weak! No...it was all the old pilot's fault! All his fault for making Starkiller forget, for the briefest of moments, that he was anything other than his Master's slave...

His mind screamed at him, and the combination of guilt and rage built up in him unbearably. He loosed it with a scream, pointing at the corpse of the man who had turned his world upside-down. Lightning wreathed up his arm, leaping hungrily from his hand to consume the corpse of the old pilot until it was ashes. When it was done, his breath heaved against his cracked ribs painfully, and he sank to his knees, feeling terribly drained. Blackness swam at the edge of his vision for a few moments, and then a familiar cold hand settled onto his shoulder.

"Master, are you all right?"

The blackness receded as Starkiller latched onto the familiar hate and anger that now swirled within him, fed somehow by his destruction of the old pilot's corpse. He saw PROXY's photoreceptors flicker briefly to the pile of ash that now settled to the durasteel decking before the droid said, "Master, we must begin repairs immediately to depart on time."

Silently, Starkiller steeled himself, drawing the anger around his heart like a shield as he rose to his feet, shaking ashes from his worn uniform. "Okay." He turned and strode back up the ramp, his steps purposeful. He had learned a valuable lesson this day...not one he would soon forget.

* * *

><p>Juno paced nervously, the click of her formal heels on the marble of her school's entrance hall an accompaniment to the thoughts that circled around and around in her head. The petticoats and rustle of the fine silk fabric that comprised her ball gown swished gracefully as she did a proper about-face, pacing back towards the other end of the entrance hall. Her hair - longer than was standard thanks to artfully-hidden extensions - had been curled and piled atop her head, held in place with a formal tiara. Her mother's favorite Coruscanti-crystal necklace glittered in the hollow of her throat, and the bodice of her carefully-fitted gown felt too tight.<p>

"You'll wear a rut in the floor if you keep pacing like that."

Her father's voice boomed in the hallway, and Juno stopped her pacing, her nervousness and irritation finding an outlet as her father limped down the stairs in his formal uniform. "Father, surely you know that Lord Vader himself will be there!" she blurted, "What if I trip or something, like I did the day the Emperor stopped to visit? What if he thinks I'm not fit for..." she caught herself in time and finished lamely, "...ah, recognition?"

Her father's gaze settled on her, and she saw pain in his eyes for an instant as he said, "Juno, a man would have to be blind and deaf not to notice you. Now stop fretting, General Haldar and Kieran will be here soon, and you must be composed." Juno snarled silently, taking a breath and feeling the restriction of her gown's bodice in the process. She forced herself to relax.

"That's better."

Her father took her arm as a droid scurried into the room. "Master Eclipse, Miss Eclipse, General Haldar and his son are here."

General Haldar strode into the room, resplendent in his Imperial uniform. Behind him, Kieran wore his formal school uniform, adorned with his numerous ribbons and awards. Juno noted absently that his boots had been shined to a glossy black. A nudge from her father drew her eyes to his face, and she stifled a giggle at the dumbstruck look that crowded his expression as he stared at her, his eyes wide. Juno heard her father laugh. "Ah, how well I remember that look."

General Haldar also laughed, clapping Kieran on the shoulder and breaking his stunned silence. "For Empire's sake boy," the General chided. "It's not polite to stare at a lady like a pole-axed bantha. Greet her properly!" Kieran stumbled a moment before proffering her a corsage blossoms, she realized suddenly, from his own garden. She stared at him, blushing despite herself as he pinned it to her gown with shaking hands.

"You..." he stuttered for a moment, then said, "You look lovely, Miss Eclipse."

Juno smiled. "Thank you, Kieran."

Both fathers laughed as they ushered Juno and Kieran towards the ball room. "Go have fun, children. Lord Vader will arrive midway through the dance to personally meet Academy hopefuls and to give the Empire's benediction on this Liberation Day." Silently, Juno sighed. That meant the next two hours would be sheer boredom. Still, she had to try and make the best of it. If Lord Vader was going to be here to see Academy hopefuls, she might have a chance to be selected if she could get his attention.

Steeling herself, she strode beside Kieran towards the dance hall, the doors closing silently behind them.

**A/N: I won't make excuses for being busy this time. This chapter sort of flowed out without any serious thought from me. I also realized that I forgot the usual disclaimer when I started this so... I don't own Star Wars, the Force Unleashed, the characters (other than my own) or anything related to them. This isn't for profit, just entertainment. I also think George Lucas has gone completely off the deep end as far as changing the series yet again (adding to the Blu-Ray release, go watch YouTube and cringe, people. Yikes, seriously, yikes.)**


	7. Chapter 7

Juno's patience had almost worn itself out by the time the hush fell over the room. Juno's gaze swung expectantly to the doorway along with everyone else's as a mechanical monotone was heard in the ball room. An imposing figure clad in mechanical armor and wearing a stately ink-dark cloak strode heavily into the room. The expressionless visage of Darth Vader's mask made more than one student shudder. Juno noticed immediately that the Dark Lord was unarmed save for a slender silver cylinder that hung from the wide belt. Her blue eyes narrowed in recognition. A lightsaber. Why would the Emperor's most trusted advisor and Supreme General of his armies bear the weapon of their hated enemy?

The question burned in the back of her mind as the Dark Lord seated himself stiffly in a large chair that had been placed at the head of the main buffet table. The Headmaster nervously bowed to the silent form of the Sith Lord before turning to the podium and clearing his throat. Juno's eyes remained on Vader as the headmaster began to speak.

"Students and faculty, we have the most unexpected honor to welcome the Emperor's right hand himself to our humble school. Truly, history's description of the fearless and noble Darth Vader does not do him justice. History abounds with the tales of his bravery in battle against the Jedi usurpers and the grievous wounds he suffered in defense of our grand Emperor Palpatine during the wars..." The headmaster abruptly cut off, his eyes going wide and his speech cut off as Darth Vader rose to his feet. The Dark Lord's right hand was raised slightly, the fingers curled into a claw-like gesture.

Vader spoke, his voice echoing harshly through a vocoder. "That is quite enough, Headmaster. You may be seated."

The Headmaster was practically thrown into a nearby chair, the invisible grip on his throat released. The man shook like a leaf as he managed to gasp, "Yes, Lord Vader." Everyone ignored him as Vader spoke again. "General Haldar." Juno's attention snapped to Kieran's father, who saluted smartly, somehow having appeared beside Vader in the interim. "Yes, my Lord."

"Have the students who wish to join the Imperial Academy flight school come before me."

One by one, the Academy hopefuls were led up to the tall figure, and Juno was not surprised to see a few of the females faint outright at being so near the legendary Darth Vader. They were quickly moved out of the way, and Juno steeled herself as Kieran was led up, her arm in his. General Haldar cleared his throat as Juno looked up at the mask, seeing her own determined expression in it.

"This is Kieran, my Lord...he is my son, and incidentally the top of his class in piloting." Juno could feel Kieran shaking, though he strove to hide it. His voice cracked a little as he greeted the Dark Lord. "It's...an honor, my Lord." Juno suddenly found herself the focus of Darth Vader's gaze, and she steeled herself as she smiled charmingly. It was like smiling at Death itself, but Juno bravely told herself the Dark Lord had no reason to harm her. After all, hadn't the Emperor himself forbade her punishment? "My Lord," she murmured, curtsying gracefully.

There was a profound silence, and as the General motioned them away, Darth Vader's voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Wait." Juno felt Kieran freeze in place, and they turned back to face the Dark Lord as he pointed at Juno. "You. What is your name?"

Juno looked back up into the mask. "Juno Eclipse, my Lord."

There was a beat of silence, and then Vader said, "Your scores indicate you also test well for piloting. Have you applied for the Academy?"

Juno struggled to control her elation. Somehow, Vader knew! He knew she wanted to be a pilot! Forcing herself to remain calm, she said, "No, my Lord." Swallowing, she said quickly, "My father wouldn't approve my application." A stab of disappointment ran through her, and the Dark Lord seemed to sense it.

"Why is that?"

Juno sighed, keeping her gaze on the Dark Lord's mask. "He would prefer for me to choose a different profession, my Lord." There was a long, awkward silence. Juno waited breathlessly to hear what he would say. The measured breaths of his mechanical breather echoed the seconds before he spoke, slowly.

"Do you wish to be a pilot, Juno Eclipse?"

Juno could hardly breathe as she nodded, then remembered and said, "Yes, my Lord!"

She thought she saw a slight nod as Vader turned to General Haldar, who quickly hid his shock.

"General, you will submit Miss Eclipse to the basic training program at the Academy. If she desires to serve the Empire as a pilot, then we shall see if she is fit to serve."

Juno didn't hear General Haldar's answer as Kieran practically dragged her back to their table. When they sat back down, Juno was surprised at the anger she saw in Kieran's gaze. She had never seen him angry, but now his green eyes were narrowed, his face mottled red with rage. "What in the name of the Empire do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "Asking Lord Vader to get into the Academy? It's no place for you!"

Juno's elation fled as her anger flared. "What do you mean, no place for me?" she snapped.

Kieran sighed impatiently. "The Academy is a tough place...half the class washes out of basic training and winds up serving clerical posts. The basic training itself is very physically demanding...do you really think _you_ can do that kind of thing?" Juno ground her teeth together. "Whatever it takes to be a pilot. Why are you really protesting me going?" Kieran groaned softly. "I...This wasn't what I'd had in mind for us, Juno."

"What you didn't have in mind, or our parents?" she countered. Kieran was silent, looking away from her. Juno stood up, doing her best to control her anger as she noticed the Dark Lord's mask tilt in her direction. She swallowed her anger and made her expression blank as she picked her way among the tables, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed her out of the room.

* * *

><p>Darth Vader appeared to be looking out over the crowd from his place at the head of the table, but under his mask his gaze followed the slender blonde girl out of the room. He had taken no immediate notice of her when she was first brought before him, but as she drew nearer, Vader had felt a strong surge of...something. She was not Force-sensitive in the slightest, that much he could tell. But the Force told him that she was important. Important to what, he was not sure, but the Force sang about her, a storm in which she stood oblivious.<p>

That feeling had been the impetus behind his unusual order to enter her into the Academy. Ordinarily he paid non-Force sensitives little heed, but even his clouded view of future events featured her as an adult clad in an Imperial pilot's uniform. His curiosity had been piqued, and so he had granted her request. He would certainly keep a close eye on her progress.

His thoughts were interrupted by General Haldar's voice.

"My Lord?"

Vader focused his gaze on the tall General.

"What is it General?"

The general cleared his throat and said somewhat diffidently, "Ah...it is time for the Liberation Day speech, my Lord."

Vader suppressed a growl of irritation as he rose to his feet. He hated speeches and he privately suspected the Emperor took great pleasure in watching him give speeches precisely because of that.

"Very well."

* * *

><p>Starkiller's hearing was sharp thanks to many sleepless nights of waiting for PROXY to attack, and so he picked up the sound of an argument easily as he made his way furtively down a narrow alley. His Master had tasked him with planting some choice "evidence" of weapons smuggling in the offices of a local business known to be run by a gang of Weequay. The task complete, he took a recommended shortcut from PROXY past the secondary school where Vader was engaged in some sort of pilot selection process. He was pleased, a rare state for him to be in. He had gotten in and out of the gang's hideout in record time without being seen or having had to kill anyone. At the sound of raised voices, he instantly went into a protective crouch, the smoothness of his lightsaber hilt in his hand at a thought.<p>

Light spilled onto the street from a balcony that came from a second level on the school, and it was from this balcony that the argument echoed. Starkiller pressed himself against a wall below it, listening intently. Two voices were speaking, one female with an Imperial accent, the other an older male - obviously an Imperial as well. Starkiller made as if to move past when the sound of his Master's name made him freeze in place.

" - in space were you thinking, girl? How dare you ask anything of Lord Vader!"

The female voice responded.

"I didn't ask him, he asked me! It was as if he knew I wanted to be a pilot all along!"

The male voice spoke up again.

"I'll talk to Lord Vader and explain it was a mistake. The Academy is no place for a lady!"

There were heavy footsteps and then the sound of heels clicking on stone.

"No, Father you can't! Being a pilot is my dream!"

There was a growl of anger, and the female voice cried out as the sound of a harsh slap echoed down to where Starkiller stood frozen, listening.

"You don't know anything about dreams, girl! Be quiet and do as you're told!"

There was the sound of a struggle, and just as Starkiller had decided it was safe to leave, there was the sound of another blow - Starkiller felt rather than heard the girl who had been arguing fall backwards over the railing with a cry.

In the next instant the girl was somehow cradled in his arms, and he stared wordlessly into the startled azure gaze for a scant moment before instinct took over and he ran for the _Rogue Shadow_ as fast as he could.

Juno blinked, but the mysterious boy who had apparently caught her - _how_ had he moved so fast? - was gone as if he had never been. She wondered if she had imagined it all or hit her head on the way over the railing. Her father's voice floated down to her. "Juno! Juno, are you all right?"

Juno nodded absently to herself before she realized her father couldn't see her, then called, "Yes...yes I'm alright. Nothing broken, anyway."

She glanced around once more before she brushed dirt off her dress and strode confidently for the entrance, absently rubbing the mark on her face. She had Lord Vader's approval to enter the Academy. It didn't matter if her father disowned her or if she never married Keiran...she would be a pilot, no matter what she had to do.

* * *

><p>PROXY noticed something different about his young charge the nanosecond he entered the ship. Starkiller walked slowly, his dark gaze turned towards his boots. Instead of looking pleased at the success of his latest mission, he looked distracted. "Master?" he queried. Starkiller's gaze went to his instantly, his dark gaze guarded. "What is it PROXY?" PROXY was silent a moment, then said, "Is something bothering you Master? I would think you would be pleased at the efficiency of your latest mission." The boy nodded almost absently. "I am pleased PROXY."<p>

PROXY noted that Starkiller's expression did not change, however. His scans told him his Master was not being entirely truthful.

"Master, my scans tell me that you are withholding information. Does it relate to your mission?"

Starkiller flushed, his gaze going intently to his boots. "No PROXY...it's not important. I saw someone on the way back to the ship is all and they...distracted me."

PROXY tilted his head. "Distracted you in what way Master? Were you attacked?"

The dark gaze went resolutely to a window, reflecting the lights of the dock the ship was anchored to.

"No PROXY, nothing like that."

PROXY ran through the various emotions he had witnessed his Master display since entering the ship and cross-referenced them with his physical state. A few nanoseconds of computations prompted him to ask, "Master, was the person who distracted you perhaps female?"

Starkiller's flush grew deeper, and he did not answer.

PROXY nodded to himself. "Was this female attractive?"

Starkiller snarled suddenly, his lightsaber out and at the skinny droid's neck. "It's none of your business!" he snapped, suddenly angry. "Breathe a word of this to Lord Vader and I'll...I'll dismantle you myself!"

PROXY went silent as Starkiller turned and strode off the bridge. He filed away the incident for later reporting. It appeared his Master was beginning to mature, and Lord Vader would want to be made aware of it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes, it's short...yes, it's been about 7 months. Let us merely say that my life has not been conducive to having free time to write anything. I still have an outline for this story, and I still intend to finish it. I'm just not setting deadlines. I'll do my best to upload more frequently than every half a year though. Thanks for sticking with it. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Juno was shaking as she exited the simulator. She swore she had felt the impact as her "ship" had crashed into the asteroid.

"Top marks, Cadet Eclipse."

Juno whirled on her instructor, cursing herself for the slight waver in her voice. "B-But sir...I crashed the ship!" The instructor nodded. "That was the point Eclipse. You destroyed all the Rebel fighters, persisting even though it cost you your own ship." Juno privately added, _"And my life, but that's totally immaterial when it comes to a starship that costs hundreds of thousands of cred, of course..." _The instructor was droning on again about the glory of dying in service to the Empire, and though Juno was almost used to the missions that were designed to be failed, it still irritated her to no end that they were designed that way at all.

She waited patiently at attention until the instructor had finished his usual speech and dismissed them.

It had been four years since she had joined the Academy, and she was close to graduation. Her father had steadfastly refused to attend any of the numerous award ceremonies, and any letters she had sent him were never replied to. She and Kieran were among the top four of their class, and Juno had watched with some sadness as Kieran became bitter at constantly being outstripped by her in all the exercises. He didn't even make any pretense at being polite anymore, and Juno had overheard several nasty rumors he had apparently perpetuated about her.

She was fortunate indeed that Darth Vader had taken such an interest in her education, ensuring that she was passed onto the higher level courses ahead of other students if she proved herself worthy, which she often did.

She made her way back to her dormitory, only pulling off her cover and undoing the tight bun that kept her hair in regulation style when the door was safely closed behind her. Thankfully, her bunkmate was away at the moment, so Juno took a rare opportunity to relax with a shower.

She stepped out of the shower to the sounds of giggling coming from her bunkmate's bed. Suppressing a sigh, she resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she quickly dressed and picked up her datapads.

Her roommate Laika was a nice enough girl, she supposed, but she was also what Juno's mother used to refer to as "boy-crazy." A few times a week Juno could count on spending the night studying in the darkened mess hall rather than spending the night with her covers over her head and a furious blush searing her skin listening to Laika's amorous goings-on with what she privately suspected was half the male fleet cadets.

Despite how uncomfortable she was during those times, she and Laika were good friends, and Laika was privy to a great deal of gossip, some of which had helped Juno in the past.

Juno made a deliberate amount of noise as she left the room, and the giggling was silenced as the door slid shut behind her.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she made her way to her usual spot in the mess hall, looking out the enormous picture window to the lights that glittered below, the only stars visible on a city-planet with all the accompanying light pollution.

She flicked open her first datapad, looking to get started on the next week's homework when a darkened shape flitted across her vision. She blinked, rubbing her eyes and wondering if she'd imagined it.

* * *

><p>Starkiller paid little attention to the chill wind as it whipped through his worn uniform. He was taller and stronger now, well-versed in staying out of sight until it was too late. PROXY's voice came over his comlink. "Master, are you in position?"<p>

Starkiller's reply was lost in the wind that screamed around the edge of the structure he crouched near, the ground of the city-plant of Corulag falling an immeasurable distance beneath his boots.

He growled, typing a quick reply, and PROXY's voice came back over the com, his tone slightly chiding. "Master, you must hurry or you will miss the entrance window into your target destination, and that will greatly displease Lord Vader."

In the silence of his thoughts, Starkiller's response was sarcastic, but not a trace of that sarcasm showed itself in his voice as he moved the leeward side of the structure and replied, "I understand PROXY. I'll be there on time."

He made his way quickly from the ledge, dropping silently to a lower level. A doorway yawned open silently, and Starkiller only blew out the breath he held as he used the Force to augment his leap - he rolled into the door as it slid shut behind him.

PROXY's voice came back over the com. "That was a very close call, Master."

Some of Starkiller's impatience bled through his response. "I know, PROXY."

Starkiller found himself in a little-used delivery tunnel, and he made his way along it silently, his lightsaber held ready but unlit. "What am I looking for, PROXY?" After an agonizing moment, the skinny droid's voice came back over the com.

"Lord Vader wishes proof that the headmaster of this institution has been engaged in…inappropriate contact with some of the students."

Starkiller frowned, and he whispered softly into his com even as his dark gaze scanned the next hallway he entered.

"Inappropriate contact?"

There was another pause, and then PROXY said, "There have been reports of students having been forced to perform sexual acts in exchange for passing marks." Starkiller's voice was hushed with rage as he replied, "Tell me you're joking. That's…despicable."

PROXY sighed. "I am afraid I was not programmed to joke, Master. Lord Vader only became aware of the reports when you intercepted the paperwork from the Huttese gangster Korsh some years ago…the Hutt was using his private bodyguards to intimidate those students who reported the inappropriate behavior."

Starkiller frowned, silently making his way into the ventilation system, moving at a fast crouch through the ducts and stepping carefully over cleaning droids as he said, "If part of this data was what I grabbed from that Hutt scum years ago, why didn't my Master pursue the reports before now?"

PROXY's tone was cool as he replied, "Lord Vader did not choose to divulge that information to me, but I gather that a prize student of his who attends this school was recently listed as being a possible target."

Starkiller's mind flashed back to a startled azure gaze and golden hair before he shook it off and asked, "Who?"

PROXY replied, "I do not know, Master. Drop down into the room one level down and you will find appropriate disguises."

Starkiller did as ordered and dropped silently into a closet apparently used to store uniforms. Wasting no time, he stripped off his own worn clothing and shrugged on the uniform of an Imperial Academy student.

He glanced over at himself in a nearby mirror, startled at how he looked in the clean, unpatched uniform. His dark hair was cropped close as always, his pale skin emphasized by the wide, dark gaze outlined by surprisingly long lashes.

He supposed he might have been considered handsome, were he not so skinny…

PROXY's voice broke into his reverie. "Master, you may admire yourself when your mission is done."

Starkiller saw the hot blush rise in his face as he was abruptly reminded of his duty. "Sorry PROXY…get me those coordinates again." PROXY's tone was faintly disapproving as he said, "I am resending them now, Master."

* * *

><p>Juno fought another yawn as the night wore on, the glowing light of the text on her datapad wavering in her vision. She was startled out of her doze by a quiet voice.<p>

"Cadet Eclipse, what are you doing out of your bunk?"

Juno immediately jumped to her feet, her back straight, snapping a smart salute. "Ah…oh, Headmaster Mikael. My apologies, sir, I didn't see you there…"

Headmaster Mikael was a proper Imperial officer, his iron-grey hair glinting in the light that came from the windows. "At ease, Cadet. You realize it's past 0200?"

Juno swallowed, not letting herself relax despite the order.

"Y-Yes sir. I…I was just finishing up some homework, sir."

The Headmaster eyed her with a frown. "And this homework couldn't be performed in your quarters?" Juno swallowed hard. What could she tell him? If she told him the truth of why she was out in the study hall, her roommate might get into trouble…

Forcing herself to sigh, she said, "I wasn't able to sleep, sir, and I didn't want to keep my bunkmates awake with my restlessness." Cracking a small grin, she said, "I figured getting a head start on homework would put me to sleep, sir."

To her surprise, the Headmaster smiled. "You have a lovely smile, Cadet Eclipse. It's really a shame you don't smile more often."

Juno wasn't sure how to respond to that, so she fell back on training. "I am feeling rather tired now, sir…permission to be excused?"

Mikael frowned. "Sit down, Cadet."

Juno sat obediently, feeling suddenly nervous as the Headmaster seated himself beside her, very close.

She froze as the man's hand brushed a lock of her pale blonde hair from her neck. "You are perhaps one of the most talented students I've ever had at this Academy, Eclipse. So dedicated for one so young…"

Juno was frozen, unable to respond as his hand brushed her again, and she swallowed, a hot blush burning under her skin.

"Headmaster, I…I appreciate the compliments, but I really think I should be going…"

Instinct overruled her training as she rose to her feet, the datapads forgotten on the table. To her surprise, the Headmaster's hand took her arm tightly. "I said to sit down, Cadet Eclipse."

To Juno's muted horror she was pulled down to sit on the Headmaster's lap. "H-Headmaster…you're…you're hurting me…"

His breath against her neck made her shiver as he said, "Relax, Cadet. I don't intend to hurt you, as long as you obey…orders."

Juno squirmed against him, and he chuckled against her skin. Juno wasn't able to scream as his hand clamped over her mouth.

* * *

><p>Starkiller stopped abruptly as he felt a waver in the Force, and then it hit him – overwhelming fear, mixed with disgust. The sensation was so strong he felt bile rise in his own throat. He darted from the planned course, and PROXY's voice immediately sounded over his com.<p>

"Master, where are you going? The records you seek are the other direction!"

Starkiller growled, and in his voice was a resolve that PROXY had never heard before.

"Something's wrong PROXY. I can feel it…I think the Headmaster is attacking a student." PROXY's voice was disapproving as he said, "Master, that is not your concern…your concern is the mission…" Starkiller snarled.

"Shut up, PROXY."

There was a startled silence over the com as Starkiller made his way towards the place the feelings emanated most strongly. Starkiller crept through the vents, his dark gaze narrowing as he beheld a study hall, empty except for two forms that occupied one chair.

He could see the panic in the azure eyes as the Headmaster's hand trailed down the front of her uniform, undoing the carefully-polished regulation buttons. The girl's pale blonde hair was disheveled, and the Headmaster had a leer on his face that made rage rise in Starkiller, barely controlled.

"PROXY, are the security cameras on for this room?" There was a moment of silence, and then PROXY's voice came back, "They are now, Master." Starkiller nodded. "Good."

He focused the Force on the leering face of the Headmaster, seeing tears trickle down the face of the student whose bared shoulders he now touched. She whimpered as his hand moved lower still, trying to struggle against his grip.

His rage coalesced within him, straining against his will for release, but he didn't want to hurt the student – the student whose azure eyes took him back to the night he'd caught her from a balcony.

Dimly, a memory of fluttering and pain came to him, and he ground his teeth together as he focused his hate on the older man's heart, feeling it flutter in his invisible grip like a trapped avian.

Slowly, he squeezed it with that invisible hand, feeling sweat pour down his face. He saw the man's hand stop its descent down the helpless student, moving instead to clutch at his chest.

Starkiller's voice bore strain as he hissed into the com, "PROXY, I want this room filled with Imperial soldiers as soon as he dies."

PROXY's voice responded. "You understand that Lord Vader will be displeased with you, Master."

Starkiller's jaw set. "I know, PROXY, but I won't let that…that lecherous man hurt her."

An alarm blared as Starkiller increased the pressure on the man's heart with the Force, causing him to gasp in pain and his grip on the student to break. She stumbled out of his grip, her hands immediately covering herself as the room was flooded with Stormtroopers.

They quickly took stock of the situation and took the Headmaster into custody, while the blond student shivered near the grate he hid behind. He could see her shiver and hear the sobs she strove to muffle even as her hands redid her uniform hastily.

PROXY's voice echoed on his com. "Master, you must release him if he is to face the Empire's justice."

Starkiller growled, and the man's heart trembled in his grip. To his surprise, PROXY added, "I would imagine the young lady whose virtue you saved would wish to see her tormentor tried, Master."

Starkiller growled, reluctantly releasing his grip on the man's heart. PROXY's voice came over his com once more, coolly. "The pandemonium that will surround your actions this night will provide excellent cover for you to acquire the information Lord Vader requires, if you hurry, Master."

Starkiller glanced back once at the slim blonde girl before he made his way to his original objective.

**A/N: It's been over a year, I know. I won't offer excuses except to say my other stories and various life events ate my ability and desire to work on this story. Having finished several stories for Assassin's Creed, I felt like this one deserved to be finished. It is after all my first story here on FF net, and it seems unfair to leave it undone when this fandom was my first foray into fic-writing.**

**That being said, all updates to all of my stories will be slow due to those life-events I mentioned, and rather than being strict to the books (which I haven't read in years) this story will merely be my own interpretation of Starkiller and Juno's backstories. **

**Given that Disney has since bought Lucasfilm and LucasArts has been shut down, it's currently up in the air if the Force Unleashed games will ever be finished, and if they are, by whom.**

**I can only hope if they make TFU3 they won't end it like Ubisoft with AC3. That would just piss me right the hell off, even though I know that's pretty much a foregone conclusion without some serious changes to Star Wars canon.**

**I hope to post to this and my other stories in tandem and finally finish it. For those of you who took the time to read and review and beg me for chapters, all I can say is mea culpa, mea maxima culpa, and thank you for reading!**


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